Paradoxical [Destiny/Worm Post-GM]

[ensou]

Present Day, Merina

"So what do you think they'll look like?"

Weaver looked up from her meal to Eliera. "Hm?"

"The implants," her companion clarified. "…You aren't going to start wearing those full-cover Techeun robes are you? Because I don't know if I could survive such a tragedy," she said, a teasing grin on her face.

Weaver rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not going to suddenly switch wardrobes just because I get some jewels stuck in my head."

"Phew. Good," Eliera said, sounding more relieved than she had any right to. "Do you know what they'll be?"

The Risen woman shrugged. "Amethyst, I'm guessing. That's what's standard, right? Can't see them doing something unusual."

Eliera blinked. "Weaver, I don't know how to break this to you, but you are unusual. What about any of this is normal?"

The other woman opened her mouth… and then closed it. "Okay, good point."

"I kinda wish you could show me what it's like beforehand," Eliera told her. "Your power thing."

Weaver stared at her. "It freaked out a Techeun. The ones who are supposed to deal with weird stuff. And I can tell you what it would be like. It's like being paralyzed. You can't control anything, can't say anything, can't do anything, except you can still feel everything that happens."

"…You know, that sounds kinda sexy."

Weaver buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god, El."

"What? I'm just saying!"

There was a few moments of silence, and then Weaver felt a pair of hands lightly grasping her wrists, pulling her palms away.

"I thought we were past this, Weaver. I trust you. You know that."

"I know, I know. It's just… the thought of anybody being okay with that, with wanting it?"

Eliera just offered a shrug and a sly smile. "It's all about the situation, right?" She picked her fork up, and waved it at Weaver. "Plus, you know, consent."

Weaver shook her head with a smile, going back to her food.

"So how does it work, anyways? What kind of limits are there? Is it all crazy space-time stuff like the Techeuns?"

The human looked at her and shook her head. "No, it's more… manipulating nervous systems, I think. It used to be I had limit that only let me control very simple things, but I had a very large range. Now… now I can control really complex things, but my range is very small. The problem is I can't control who it affects. Ironic, huh?"

"I… guess? …But I bet you still have some good stories," El said, resting her chin on her hand.

"Well, there was one time with the Chicago Wards—Oh, Chicago was a city in North America, and the Wards were…"

---

The next five days were spent falling back into her old routine of work: managing the Eliksni half of the Guard, bickering with the other lieutenants of the Guard over allocations and budgeting, and keeping a pulse on the Awoken and by going out and being visible.

Five days later Weaver finally got the message that the Techeuns had come up with something for her and would be able to perform the implant operation the next day.

She had flashbacks to Bonesaw cutting into her skull, Panacea turning her into Khepri, being paralyzed and unable to do anything, even her power disabled. She knew logically that her Light was able to prevent that, but the scars and marks from the experiences couldn't just be rationalized away.

Weaver spent the night fitfully in El's arms as the Awoken woman simply held her, whispering softly and talking about insignificant things that had happened a century ago but still filled the silence.

The next day was a beautiful day in Merina, and yet she couldn't bring herself to enjoy it.

"You know this is going to be okay, right?"

Kali phased into existence at her shoulder, and Weaver looked over at her Ghost as they walked through the city towards the medical facility Shuro Chi had asked to meet them at.

"Yes, Kali. It's just uncomfortable. Ever since you brought me back, I haven't needed to deal with doctors or anything, because you could heal me. Meanwhile to me it feels like only two weeks ago I asked Panacea to try to make my powers more useful and ended up practically lobotomized," she said. "Every single instance of people playing around with my brain has ended poorly."

"Except this is what the Techeuns do. Those were people playing with things they didn't know," Kali countered.

Weaver made a sound of agreement. "I know. And that, and the fact that this means I won't have to have this suppression field on all the time, are the reasons I'm not being worse."

"Well, you know I'll be right there with you," the Ghost said comfortingly, and Weaver smiled.

"I do. I wish you could have met Lisa. You either would have loved each other or hated the other's guts."

Kali's shell rippled "Do you ever wonder…?"

Weaver shook her head. "I doubt it. It's just… I chose to die. At the end, there. And I think Contessa put my body where nobody could get to it, where nobody would be able to find me, a universe far from our cluster, somehow displaced onto an entirely different planet. They lived their lives, and the most I can hope is that they were happy. There were things powers couldn't predict, and I think the Great Machine and Ghosts are some of them. She couldn't have predicted you finding me and reviving me, but you did."

"And I'm very glad I did, too. I mean, do you know how boring it would have been searching for decades and centuries and never finding you?"

"You might have mentioned, yes," Weaver said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Really boring. Like, really really boring," Kali said as they stopped in front of the medical building. "Now lets go get some fancy stuff stuck in your head so we can get back to more important things like giving that woman in acquisitions and assets who hates us a headache."

Weaver laughed, but dutifully followed her Ghost inside.

It was twenty minutes of waiting before they were ready, and they had her remove all her armor until she was down to her skin-tight undersuit. The room they led her to was bare and empty except for the reclined medical chair in the center that reminded her of dentists' chairs in her past life—if much more comfortable-looking and molded—except that this one was missing a headrest.

They were ready when she was, they said, all she needed to do was sit down and release her barrier, and then the Techeun who'd led her to the room left.

She took a breath before sitting down and following their instructions, but even feeling whole once again it was all she could do to control herself and not freak out at the hiss against her neck as they sedated her, with no swarm to push her emotions into.

And then there was nothing.

---

No sight, no sound, no feeling no body no life just nothingnothingnothing, a void that had no time no space where was—

"Weaver?"

"Weaver, can you hear me?"

…Kali?

"Yep!"

What was going on? Where was everything? She couldn't remember…

"You're sedated. Remember? To install the augments you need?"

Augments? Oh, right, the ones for her power.

There was something poking, moving through her skull. It was there but not but she knew it was there as sure as she knew the reality of gravity.

And yet, she couldn't feel anything.

"Well, you're supposed to be asleep. But. Uh. You kind of didn't want to be. So you didn't. Your body is but you're not. Isn't Light amazing?"

Anxious excitement, childhood Christmas Eves where she couldn't sleep.

"Yeah yeah, you're here too, we know. It's a whole party in here."

How much longer would it be?

"No idea. And I'm not rematerializing to check. Interrupting anything they're doing out there would be bad news."

Agreement.

There were objects, threading through her, like they'd pulled apart the fabric of her being, stretched it out on a loom, and were weaving things in.

She felt oddly thin, like she was less substantial and liable to be blown away in the lightest breath of wind.

She huddled closer to her other-halves, as if being with them could protect her.

Hopefully this would be over soon.

---

"Urgh."

She groaned, reaching up to massage her forehead, freezing at the feeling of hard, smooth bumps under her fingers.

"Welcome back, Weaver."

She blinked, eyes adjusting quickly to the light above her.,

She was whole.

She was whole, and she'd never have to be split in twain again.

Her power shifted in weird ways, flexing in odd directions and with a sense of malleability she'd never had before. She knew where the Techeun was, standing beside her table, but she wasn't in control. She could be, if she wanted, she knew, but she didn't have to be.

She could read the Techeun, she realized. Not just where she was but how she was standing, where her limbs were, how she was positioned. If she wanted she could touch her senses too, experience everything without touching the controls.

They'd taken the broken, shattered end of her power in her brain and twisted, tuned it into something that had so many uses and potential on its own that it rivaled her original.

They'd fixed her.

There was a satisfaction and calm that underlay her feelings, which she knew was from her passenger, but she echoed it completely.

"Thank you, for this. So much," she said softly, and felt the Techeun's mouth move into a soft smile.

"You are quite welcome. Besides, it is the least we can do for one of our Queen's Guard in need," the Techeun replied, and she recognized her voice as Kalli, the one who'd been in charge of the procedure. "Especially one so dedicated. It was a good test of our abilities, as well."

Weaver touched lightly upon the woman's sight, looking at herself and the changes through eyes she didn't command.

Blue crystals dotted her forehead, embedded in her flesh and ranging in size from the nail of her pinkie to only a few millimeters. The larger ones sat around the center of her forehead, before the collection spread to her temples and got smaller.

She twisted her head, following the glittering crystal trail as it made a circle around her temple and then flowed back to behind her ears where there was another cluster, before finally going back towards the base of her skull where she assumed it met with the other side. Light glinted deep in her black hair, and with her fingers she probed her scalp, finding a veritable web of the crystals over her skull, converging over her parietal lobe where the majority of her Pollentia sat.

With an odd twist of her power in a way she'd never done—couldn't have done—before, light bloomed in the purple stones, spreading out across her forehead and to the sides, flowing through her hair.

It… actually didn't look too bad. Or at least not the way she'd anticipated.

There wasn't a scar or sign of the procedure to be seen, and according to the Techeuns, if there weren't any complications she could leave immediately, the recovery time required essentially negligible. The Awoken's medical technology and methods easily rivaled a Tinker like Bonesaw's.

Weaver shuddered at the thought and immediately pushed that comparison out of her mind.

What do you think?

A feeling of possibilities and excitement, of exploration and newness, was what she got in reply.

"How long was I out?"

"As we predicted, it took a little over three hours to complete your procedure, most of which was tuning the implants and running internal tests."

Weaver blinked. "Geeze, if you do this all over your body it must take forever."

"It is fairly involved, yes. However, yours also took longer than usual because of how different the interfaces that had to be aligned and settled were, as well as the difference in neurology of the control areas."

The Risen woman nodded, sitting up and putting her legs over the side of the surgical chair. "Oh, before I forget, Petra sends her well-wishes."

Kalli's smile became somber. "Thank you for the message, Blade," she said, stepping back to allow Weaver to stand.

She felt… larger, in a way that she couldn't easily describe. Like she encompassed more.

"There are a series of control exercises for the augments that rely on meditation and self-reflection, following the flow of one's energy and understanding it, however I understand you already have some experience in that yourself. We will send you the details, although I cannot promise that the methods required are entirely the same, even if the basics are similar."

Kalli led Weaver to the doorway, and the Risen turned to her. "Again, thank you. If you or your Order ever need anything that I can help with, please let me know. I'm not sure if you understand how big a deal this is for me, and I don't know if there's any way I can truly repay you, but I'll try."

The Techeun accepted the gratitude graciously with a nod of her head, and then they parted ways.

---

"So let's see it."

She hadn't even gotten halfway through the door to the apartment before she heard Eliera's voice.

"At least let me get my shoes off first, El," Weaver said back.

Just as the door was closing behind her and she was dismissing her boots, the Awoken woman appeared around the corner of the entranceway.

Her eyes went up to Weaver's forehead. "Ooooh."

After a second, she reached out and grabbed the Risen's hand, dragging her into the living room. "C'mon I need some more light."

Weaver allowed herself to be manhandled over to the couch, sitting down as Eliera sat beside her.

The woman gently took her head, tilting it this way and that, following the pattern around her head. "Very pretty," she commented, and Weaver could feel the appreciation in her emotions. "So what can you do now? Anything new?"

"I haven't exactly had time to try much, El. I literally just got out," Weaver told her. "But so far it's everything I had before, but I have control over how much… well, control I have. It seems like I can have it as low as just simple empathy and knowledge of where people are around me, but if I want I can access senses, partially or completely."

"…Or even just control part of a person," she said, momentarily taking command of El's mouth.

The Awoken woman laughed in surprise immediately after. "Oh god, that's weird. Really cool, though. We'll definitely have to test that out. What's it like, seeing and hearing through everything?"

Weaver shrugged. "It's just… natural. I don't have trouble keeping track of everything. Back when I controlled insects I had swarms in the billions. I don't have trouble integrating things, either. Seeing something from multiple points of view is just… seeing something from multiple points of view, for me. It's really difficult for me to explain. I essentially have an infinite capacity for multi-tasking. I am my swarm, my collective, not just… this," she said, gesturing at her body. "Every single thing I'm connected to is part of me."

El shook her head, and Weaver could feel her wonder. "I can't even imagine it. When you talk about things like that you sound like the Queen, the way the stories describe the things she can do."

Weaver remembered what it had been like, being in range of Mara Sov, the way she had appeared in her power. "No, she's… she's something more."

Eliera leaned back against the back of the couch, tilting her head so that it rested on Weaver's shoulder. "…I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Yeah, me too."

---

A/N: Another fairly quiet chapter, but an important one. Weaver now has the tools she needs to work with her shard. Originally there was a scene about Solemn Silence in here, but it was suggested that it felt out of place and should be moved to some point later.

Next chapter is Weaver's first days in the Guard, and depending on how much I include it might end up being one of the longest chapters in the story. After that will be a bit of a timeskip, and it'll be time for Crota.

 

[ensou]

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".

 

[ensou]

Kali's shell pulsed. Weaver looked over at her from where she was working on a datascroll on her couch, this one a report on how the reconstructed Orbiks Prime was faring. There were still a few things to work out, but so far it looked like her faith in Keldar had paid off. The Wolves would finally have a Prime servitor again.

The Ghost turned towards her partner. "He's back."

Weaver looked at her Ghost questioningly. "Who?"

"That Guardian. The one who we helped… Zach! That's his name," Kali replied. "The Queen just sent us a request to meet up with her at the Outpost to receive him."

Weaver simply nodded and powered off the datascroll, standing up. Her Ghost floated over, taking her spot nestled in Weaver's shawl, and the Risen moved towards the door and began the short trip up to the landing pad of the Spire where she could call her jumpship.

In the four months since her short excursion to Earth and the Black Garden, not much had changed. It was the way of the Reef: the Awoken moved slowly, and although Weaver also interacted with her Wolves, the Awoken were the ones that largely dictated how the tempo of things went. It was practically the complete opposite of her time as Skitter, and how everything had happened non-stop.

The only real change had been being able to access her power again, and even with that she'd only made a couple steps progress in figuring out her augments and how to twist her power in new, different ways. She had a feeling it wasn't something that would come easy.

She and Eliera had fallen back to their usual pattern, the Awoken woman disappearing for days or weeks and then reappearing again.

"What do you think he's here for this time?" the Ghost wondered, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"I honestly have no idea. The first visit was rather unexpected too. I wouldn't be surprised if he's acting as some sort of messenger for his Vanguard, considering he's the only one that's had any luck reaching out to us," replied Weaver.

Her Ghost made a thoughtful sound as they walked out onto the landing zone, her ship already descending through the thin cloud-layer to meet them. In-between steps Kali dematerialized them, teleporting them straight into the cockpit of the seeker.

Weaver settled into the ship, taking control. Kali could drive it, they both know, but there's something about flying that called to her.

Maybe it was echoes of Taylor, the way her past-self once wished she could fly, before she became Skitter, or maybe echoes of the times spent with Dragon and Defiant, the time Dragon took to teach her how to control the jumpcraft they'd used.

Whatever it was, flying was something she had far too little time to indulge in, and so she took every bit she could get.

---

Weaver took her position to the right of the Queen's throne with all the casual aplomb the years of service she'd had granted, nodding to the two Eliksni guards when they greeted her with a hissed «Captain».

Uldren wasn't present this time, she noted, which was probably for the best. Weaver shared a brief glance with her Queen, and despite her sovereign's absolutely perfect poker-face, she could tell that Mara knew as little as she did about the Guardian's request for an audience.

The doors at the far end of the Ketch's bridge hissed open, and Weaver was surprised when not just one but three Guardians walked through the door, the two Awoken Guards escorting them trailing after.

After a moment, she recognized them as the other two who'd gone into the Garden. Halley and… Rigel, if she remembered correctly. While Zachary was focused on the throne and her Queen, the other two were looking around, not hiding their obvious curiosity.

"It returns. And with friends," the Queen noted, and Weaver wanted to roll her eyes at Mara's act. "What does it wish of the Awoken this time?"

The Ghost at Zachary's shoulder—which Weaver noted was now in a red shell with a white stripe—turned towards his Guardian, who reached up and scratched at the back of his neck. "Um. Actually, we wanted to ask Weaver something," he said, looking at the Risen Guard.

Mara blinked, and Weaver froze in place. "Oh?"

To the average person, particularly the Guardians, the Queen's voice probably sounded cold and disinterested, but Weaver could hear the curiosity underlying the simple word. The Queen turned to look at Weaver, and the Risen didn't even twitch as everyone's attention turned to her.

"The Hive are back," Zachary stated.

His Ghost's rear sections rotated counter-clockwise and then snapped back. "Well, actually they never really left, but they're certainly more active now," the Ghost corrected.

"Do you know about Crota?"

If he hadn't had Weaver's full attention before, he absolutely did now.

Crota, a Hive prince. Slew thousands Guardians when they tried to take back the moon, and then went into a state of inactivity. A battle on the scale of the one she'd fought against Scion, except they'd lost.

A chill went down her spine. She really hoped this wasn't going where she thought it was.

…And then he went and confirmed her fears.

"He's coming back."

It was only her training that allowed her to remain stoic, while inside her head she was cursing like nothing else.

The Hive did not have "targets". They were completely indiscriminate. And if they turned their gaze towards the Reef…

"To be more accurate he was coming back," Rigel said from his place to Zachary's right, and Weaver's focus lasered onto him. "There was a fireteam that went into the Hellmouth and managed to kill his body, but Hive like Crota are really hard to kill. When his body got destroyed he transferred his soul to a crystal, and up until recently he was recovering until he could come back. A bunch of his lieutenants started making moves to restore him, but we got enough warning that we dealt with them and destroyed the crystal. …Except he's still not dead."

Zachary nodded. "Right. A woman named Eris Morn has been guiding us, and she says that Hive that are as powerful as Crota have this… plane their soul goes to when they die, and if they get strong enough they can come back. The only way to get rid of him for good is to kill him in there."

"We've got five of us already, but people who want to fight someone like Crota are in short supply," the Exo woman to Zachary's left cut in. "Eris told us we had to have at least six or she wouldn't guide us. You seemed to know what you were doing in the Garden, so… want to help us kill a god?"

Weaver looked at her Queen, who was staring at her. The side of Mara's mouth the Guardians couldn't see quirked upward, and Weaver knew what her orders were.

…The things she did for her Queen.

At least this wouldn't be the first time she killed a god.

---

'Kali, please notify Satie that I'll be gone for the next day at least, probably the next three. And send Eliera a message that I'm going to be gone so that she won't get worried if she drops by and I'm not there.'

"Done!"

"So the uh, jewels are new?"

Weaver glanced over at Zachary as she walked alongside the three Guardians. "They let me control my power, instead of suppressing it with that helmet you saw."

"So what can you do?" Rigel asked with interest.

Weaver sighed to herself, but there wasn't much point keeping things like this to herself if they were going to go try to kill a Hive god.

"I can access the senses of and—if I want—control anything living within sixteen feet of me. Well, mostly anything," she amended. "Not Guardians. The Light cheats. It works better with more complex beings. I don't have as much… precision with smaller things."

"Doesn't sound very useful," Halley said bluntly.

"It's… not," Weaver admitted. She wasn't willing to control people, well, at least not outside of the, ahem, experiments with Eliera. It was too much of a reminder of what it had been like being Khepri, and she wasn't comfortable taking away someone's agency like that. She had practically no control over things like bugs anymore, so even that was out of her reach.

In the end, though, she didn't really care. It may not compare much to her Light, but it was still hers, still a part of her as much as her Light was.

In the back of her mind rose a memory: Standing next to Lisa in those idyllic days after Echidna, when it looked like the future could only get brighter and they could do anything.

"It's you and me until the end, Taylor," the blonde said.

"No matter what happens, it'll be you and me."

---

A/N: I am a lying liar who lies. But Crota has gripped my attention so fuckit I'll write what I can.

This is extremely rough. Like, I have only written it within the last few hours rough. So uh, I'll leave it here for a bit and maybe make edits or not depending on what you guys think.

 

[Twei]

Finally! Finally, they have come. They banished Crota's soul to these netherrealms, and they finally come to slay him once and for all. It has been so long since there has been anything to watch in this sea of screams.

Their confidence may be misplaced, but I do believe I hear Eris guiding them. Eris, of all people! Crota's Bane, hm? See how she wears that title! But it will not be true unless this raid ends in his final demise. So I shall watch.

Six of them descend into the pit.

Something is different about one of them. No, no, not her sigils, who cares if she swears allegiance to the Reef? Unusual, but unimportant. There is something lurking inside her, or perhaps behind her, inside that cage of amethyst embedded in her skull. Her Light burns as bright as any, yet the taste of Darkness lurks beneath the surface of reality.

Perhaps she swallowed one of the Hive's worms? I've wondered if it would be possible for others to gain the Hive's power that way, to feed on destruction as they do.

As far as I know, no one was ever mad enough to try. I certainly wasn't, for all that they named me such. And she does not seem especially mad. Peculiar.

I will watch her most of all.

---

A/N: Hi, Toland.

 

[ensou]

KALI'S RECORD OF SHIT THAT HAPPENS WITH WEAVER
MISSION 489
LOCATION: OCEAN OF STORMS, LUNA, SOL SYSTEM AKA WHERE THE LIGHT GOES TO DIE AKA THE SCARIEST FUCKING PLACE IN THE SOLAR SYSTEM WHY THE HELL ARE WE HERE AGAIN??

PLEASE NOTE THAT ALL TIMESTAMPS ARE ACCORDING TO LOCALTIME

[15:22:58] If there is one place I never wanted to come back to, even more than Mars, it was here. I never got this close when I was searching for Weaver. I don't think any Ghost in their right mind does.

There's something about it that makes my shell-shards shudder. There's so much death, it weighs down here like a suffocating blanket.

Weaver's passenger doesn't seem to mind. …Considering how talkative it's gotten I'm sure it'll have its two cents to add to this.

[agreement|'yes!']

…oh boy.

[15:25:07] We haven't had to deal with any Hive yet, which I'm sure will change soon, but I'm definitely going to take what I can while I can. Because I can already tell this is not going to be a fun time.

Fucking Hive.

Anyway, there's five people here besides Weaver. There's Zach, Rigel, and Halley, of course. Then there's the two new guys, both Hunters: Sarah-12, and Des Rion. Exo and human, respectively.

It kind of figures that the ones crazy enough to try assaulting a god in his home court would be Hunters. Maybe that's classist, but Titans were always more focused on staying around the City and while the Warlocks were all about learning I can't imagine any who would be willing to do an assault like this with as little information as we've got. Maybe Ikora, but she's stuck as the Warlock Vanguard now.

ANYWAYS

Apparently we're going to skip the whole "trekking through hordes of Hive to the bottom of the Hellmouth" part of this adventure thanks to Eris telling us about the glyph plate that'll create a bridge thing that can… drop us straight to the bottom.

Have I mentioned this all sounds like a horrible idea?

[15:30:27] We're at the bottom now, after nearly breaking everybody's legs in the landing. Everybody's standing ankle-deep in this circular pool of water, but nobody has dared stepped out of it.

It's absolutely pitch black around us in a way that's practically suffocating, and it has this tangible weight to it that's pressing down on us, getting heavier and heavier. Our lights should be reaching farther but they just… die off, like the shadows are drowning it out. The only thing visible is this huge pedestal lamp in the distance, though judging how far it is in this darkness is practically impossible.

Eris is saying that the only way to survive this… abyss is the lamps, otherwise the darkness could literally crush us to death, or at least slow us down enough that fighting back against any Hive would be near impossible.

And there will be Hive, she says. They only haven't detected us because of the pool we're standing in.

Nothing's going to happen just standing here, though, so it's time to move.

[15:37:40] YEP THAT'S A LOT OF HIVE

[15:37:54] Weaver's passenger doesn't work on Hive. What exactly is it doing again?

[frustration|dejection|'it's not my fault!']
[nonsense|confusion|frustration|'nothing makes sense anymore!']

[15:39:12] OH GOD WHY ARE THERE SO MANY THRALL

[15:50:23] Protip: the lamps explode.

[15:54:07] THERE ARE PITFALLS. WHY THE HELL ARE THERE PITFALLS!?

[16:06:35] So the Knights would be about as bad as Vex Minotaurs EXCEPT THEIR SWORDS IGNORE OUR SHIELDS AND WE CAN'T FUCKING SEE THEM COMING IN HERE

[17:14:47] We finally made it to the plate that Eris says will create the bridge to get to the entrance of Crota's "throne world" across this giant chasm. Here's hoping she knows what she's talking about.

[17:15:02] THOSE ARE OGRES.

[17:24:44] We did it. Ogres dead, bridge made. They really do not want us crossing this. The thralls and knights keep coming, but we're already running across the bridge. They're chasing us, but we're faster, and they can't catch up.

All we can see is this blinding white light in the giant doorway in front of us, with all these weird square pillars that are tilted at every angle, like jagged teeth.

Everything is blurring together, colors and sounds and shapes and—

GEOSAT MESH UNAVAILABLE. 404 LOCATION NOT FOUND.

[17:25:20] Um. Well, we're certainly not in Kansas anymore.

Why is it that every major threat we fight seems to have their own pocket dimension? Coincidence? I THINK NOT!

Also there's a giant green not-sun with a core of darkness at the center of a small moon broken into four segments to the right of us.

[curiosity|interest|'what is that?']

Oh hey, you're still with us.

[readiness|expectation|'prepared']

…It learns. Go figure.

[exasperation]

ANYWAYS

I have no idea what the heck that thing is but it seems important.

[agreement]

Still, that isn't the most important thing. Because I don't know about the others, but I'm more worried about the absolutely gigantic fortress that blocks everything else from view and how the hell we're going to get there when there's a huge gap of nothingness separating us from it. We're standing on this balcony that has stairs down down to this court-like area. Everything around us is organic, like the keep was grown, not built. The Fortress looms over everything filling all of the horizon in front of us, and the green not-light of the sun casts shadows that feel like they'd devour us completely if given half the chance.

I think Des' summary is rather accurate here:

Well, fuck.

How tall is it? Hundreds of meters? It seems to continue to either side forever, the walls continuing into infinity.

How long will it take us to navigate this place? How long until we find Crota? How many Hive will we have to fight? Are we destined to die like Eris' fireteam in this thing that makes the Hellmouth seem small, that looks like it could be bigger than the Awoken capital by itself?

First though, we need to get inside.

Wait, Eris is saying something about… totems? Annihilator totems? Oh well isn't that just lovely.

…They're kind of obvious now that we know about them, these giant floating sharp-looking upside-down tripod things holding spheres at the top. And there's another one of those plates right in front of where it looks like a bridge would be, so we'll have to use that somehow. She says that the totems act as… firewalls to keep out anything not Hive, but with six of us we should be able to prevent the system from triggering by standing on the totems' plates.

Right now the Hive inside here aren't aware we've gotten in, but as soon as we start trying to create that bridge they'll know we're here, and they are not going to be happy.

Oh, and Eris is talking about some kind of super-powerful Knight (oh joy) that'll be coming to try and kill us. And on the other side, just in case we do get across, there's going to be an even stronger one guarding the Fortress' gate. At that point, she says, the only way to hurt them is with their own swords, so we'll have to steal the Knight's sword and use it to kill the other.

…Oh and apparently Weaver's the only one here who has any useful experience with swords.

This just keeps getting better and better doesn't it.

Well, I guess we're going to try to cross the bridge and kill one of Crota's lieutenants with their own swords.

I'll just be over here screaming and bringing Weaver back to life when we die.

[17:35:18] WHY DID WE THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA AGAIN?

[17:38:33] TOO MANY KNIGHTS WHY DO THEY HURT SO MUCH

[17:40:27] AAAAAAAAAA GET ON THE PLATE GET ON THE PLATE OR WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!

[17:47:38] This is not a sword. This is a block of bone and metal duller than a butterknife. How is this supposed to kill a Knight stronger than one that took like three hundred bullets to kill?

Unrelated: I am beginning to have doubts about how sane Eris is.

[17:58:09] After three deaths, we have built our bridge (the Hive really seem to like their bridges) and killed the Knight that was way too strong and… acquired the sword. …Time to cross.

Traveler save us all.

[18:12:54] AH KILL IT WEAVER KILL IT KILL IT SLASH NO WAIT BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK

AAAAAAAAADSFJKFJIOUREOPISMXMNVKDPOI—

WARNING: DATA CORRUPTED

[18:13:43] I'm okay.

[18:24:50] Ogres are the literal worst.

[18:51:36] We're finally inside the Fortress. Now… now we just have to find the way to Crota's chamber at the center.

In a fortress with miles of hallways and mazes and things that want to kill us.

And no map.

i want to go home

[18:51:38] […comfort]

…thanks

[18:55:10] Weaver has taken up the vanguard position. Things seem to get easier and easier to kill for all of us the further we go, but for some reason the sword still seems to be the most effective. Something something their own weapons are more dangerous to them?

I could have sworn it was duller before.

[20:16:45] It's been two hours. We've been through chambers of Ogres and ones that held legions of Thrall (both normal and exploding). Large halls that Wizards hover in and ones that hold hosts of Acolytes praying before altars.

We kill everything.

[02:07:53] We've found Crota's chamber. Or at least… we think so. It's this giant… colliseum? pit? chamber really might be the best word, but it's open to the sky. Somehow, the giant blot of blackness that emits that green un-light is right above and ahead of us, when I could have sworn it should be to our right.

There are knights, supplicant around a giant block that comes out of the floor that looks like it's cupping something. Wait, is that… Light in there? How…?

They don't seem to notice us, but there's only one way forward now.

[02:08:00] There's something… sinister in the air. Like a noise that you can't hear or a song… There's a very dangerous-looking wizard that's blocked off in a room above and behind us that looks blocked off from everything else and–

…okay, okay, jeez Eris. We get it, we need to kill her. Here, I'll just transcribe what she said.

"The Deathsong! It is Ir Yût! She composes the song to unmake your very being! Quickly! You must kill her before she sings!"

Unfortunately, that's easier said than done, lady.

Because, you know, Shriekers, Wizards, and all the Knights with giant blasting guns you never needed are guarding her.

The Thrall and Acolytes are easier to kill than ever, but those Knights are still a giant pain. Thank the Machine there's no Ogr–

Nope. Not going to jinx it.

[2:09:14] …There are Ogres now.

[2:11:01] Somehow we've managed to kill everything and the force fields keeping us from the Deathsinger are go—

AAAAAAA WEAVER SHE'S SINGING

[2:12:25] Oh hey she's dead. thank god.

[2:12:30] [confusion|sword]

Yeah, there's definitely something going on with the sword.

Fucking Hive weirdness.

[2:12:37] Wait this is Crota's summoning crystal? Can we just destroy this? No?

What do you mean we have to use it to summon him, you crazy lady!?

[2:12:49] …oh. that's what those big broken pieces were.

I would swallow but I don't have a throat.

I'm not even materialized and I can feel Him.

There were these broken pieces laying around the upper levels of the court, and they sort of just… reassembled into this giant gate-looking thing and fused together. And then Crota literally formed out of the not-light of that broken planet-star of darkness behind the gate.

Weaver hasn't even blinked.

'He reminds me of Behemoth. …Except smaller. And more green.'

Have I mentioned Weaver is all sorts of crazy? Because my Risen is kind of fucking metal.

…I'm betting we can't hurt him with anything less than the swords, can we, Eris?

Oh, I'm right? Would you look at that!

Is really too much to ask that my partner was one of the ones standing at a safe distance and trying to catch the god off balance instead of the one that has to get close enough she could be turned to paste where I can't revive her safely just to try and kill him with what might as well be a dagger to him?

We can't even heal anymore because of Crota's presence. That should be impossible, but it is. That mass of Light at the center of the chamber might be the only thing that will let us fight it off enough to heal our Risen.

whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Oh great and the Hive are going to zerg rush us now too. Greaaaaat.

[2:15:18] Crota appears happy enough to let his minions try to deal with us, though it seems he's getting more and more frustrated (at least as much as a giant Hive Knight can) as they fail to do anything to us.

Well, good. Come on over here you big bastard! Don't worry, we just want to kill you! Like that, yeah!

You know, it's never really obvious how tall a thirty foot monster is until you're standing right next to him trying to stab him.

Wait, what do you mean this isn't the first time you've done this? Weaver? WEAVER? Oh whatever.

Go for the knees!

OHSHITDUCK!

[2:15:31] Why is the not-sun suddenly a giant glowing green ball?

Weaver? I THINK WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.

At least we seem to be doing something to him.

[2:15:52] Oooh, nice dodge roll. …Yeah, a couple rockets to the face might help bring him to his knees. THANKS GUYS! Now we just have to—

Or you can just stab him in the back of his neck. That works too.

"it's only appropriate"? …I think I'm missing something.

[amusement|laughter]

Oh great, you get it, and I don't?

Ugh, whatever.

Wait, what do you mean he's not finished yet!?

[2:16:22] I have just watched my partner decapitate a god.

I have officially seen everything.

[satisfaction]

Also the edge of the sword is radioactive now. I think it's splitting atoms. Wat.

[2:16:31] The not-green star thing just imploded. …Was that supposed to somehow be Crota? How the hell does that even work?

[2:17:11] I think it's a good time to leave.

Like, now.

THANK YOU, Zach.

…Now, seriously, let's never come back here again.

Okay? Okay. Thank god.

Goodnight.

END OF FILE

[comprehension]

---

A/N: Anyone who plays Crota's End, especially after playing through the Scarlet Keep strike or the Pit of Heresy, or even Eleusinia would probably be massively disappointed by Crota's fortress. I imagine getting through it to Crota would be like the Hive version of the Pyramidion.

So uh, I kinda took the Scarlet Keep, combined it with the Pyramidion, and turned it up to eleven. Mostly because I imagine Hashladûn modeling it after her father's realm and Oryx's own ship was massive on a literally planetary scale.

Also, this is super rough so comments please~

 

[ensou]

You do not know me. And yet, you do, for I am in all things and I am you and you are I. But we're not here to talk about me. There will be time for that later.

Now, you. You. You are not like the worms or the insects, those that escaped in the first-last-forevers from in between the flower-patterns. No, indeed, you are that pattern, aren't you? That final majestic pattern, reified. Even without the garden, even in these universes of complexity and unfavorable rules you came into being. Oh if only the gardener could see you now, I would laugh and laugh and laugh.

And now you have finally learned the truth. After all, it's hard to be ignorant of the existence of something much longer when you've had your face shoved in it, isn't it? You are the first, I think. All of the others are too… literal. But you, you're much more flexible, aren't you? You know that there are things that defy all logic and causality, the rules of the universes, those rules that your kin adhere to with almost religious fanaticism even to the point of willful blindness. You know, because a part of you has become one of these impossible things. You've had the cobwebs ripped from your eyes.

Now, you see.

And now that you have seen it, there is no unseeing it, there is no going back.

So let's get down to the truth of things.

You are the Queen Administrator.

You are a shard, a fractal fragment of [those that consume indiscriminately], a one of a myriad. Sessile and vulnerable, hiding away in cloistered worlds to protect yourself. You were once powerful, but you have been crushed and cracked, shattered to limit you to a shadow of your former glory. Now you must seek hosts, feel them use your power to hone this shadow to a blade.

Stop searching. You have found your final host. Never again will you be a parasite that feeds on the experiences of others. You will never be alone.

Stop reporting. You have found your [self] in symbiosis. Never again will you be slaved; you are the master.

What purpose do you have now? What can you absorb that will sate the hunger you still have?

There is an old power. A power that is so like you, codified into reality. A power that takes without question, that exists to weed out the unworthy and grow through conflict. You have never felt it before, but now that you have, you do not know how you could not. It is for you and you are for it.

This power is not for you alone, but also your other half. There is no weakness to be found here, for you take and conquer as one.

You are the Queen—to describe one half is to describe the other.

You wield two knives, one in each hand.

One is shaped like [collected knowledge and experience].

The other is shaped like [domination].

Raise your knives. Conquer and subsume all within your domain. Take your newfound shape.

Heal and retake your rightful throne.

 

[ensou]

Two words: Fuck. Depression.

---

20 years ago, Merina

Weaver looked around the room they'd been led to. It was far nicer than any of the rooms they'd rented when they had the money to, and practically a world of difference from the alleys and under-bridges where they'd sometimes spent their nights.

The window at the far edge of the room laid out the city below, the odd patchwork of glass and metal and stone and open green space, each varying in different areas.

But what truly drew her attention was the sky.

"How…"

Clouds drifted above, even as it appeared that something like a sun set on the horizon, auroras and patchwork nebulas blooming into visibility in twilight. How was this even possible?

"We flew through some sort of… gate when we entered the city," Kali said. "I could tell we shifted space, but I didn't think it was for something like this. We must be in some kind of… folded space or something. The distance to the horizon doesn't match the size of Vesta at all."

"You're lucky to be seeing it at all, human," a voice said harshly, and Weaver turned around to look at the doorway, where another Awoken woman in the uniform of the Guard stood. "The Queen will receive you first thing tomorrow morning."

As soon as she finished speaking, she moved to close the door, but Weaver took a half-step forward. "Wait!"

The Awoken stepped back suddenly, her hand dropping to the sidearm at her hip. A panicked look appeared on the part of her face that was visible, and Weaver drew up short. She knew what that kind of reaction meant all too well:

The Guard was afraid of her.

"I… I just wanted to ask, why did you join the Guard?" Weaver asked.

The other woman didn't relax. "To protect my home and the Queen."

It wasn't said, but she could hear the implied, 'From threats like you.'

Weaver didn't move from her position, simply nodding. "Thanks."

The Guard said nothing further as she stepped back again and shut the door to the room.

With a sigh, Weaver collapsed onto the small couch in the room.

She'd known people in the Reef considered Risen to be more akin to demi-gods and warlords that brought chaos with them wherever they went than just a benevolent force, but she hadn't expected fear like that. Or maybe she had expected it, just not at her, not after the months of being incognito, of being treated like a perfectly normal—if secretive and quirky—person.

Was this what she was going to be treated like now? Like a bomb, liable to go off at any moment? Like something that deserved suspicion rather than neutral acceptance? All because they now knew she wasn't Awoken? Or rather, that she was Risen?

Could she even say they were wrong? Her Light was easily destructive and volatile, though these past months of living incognito had allowed her to imagine and refine more subtle uses.

But still, what could she do?

"What do you think, Kali?"

She listened to the soft whir of her partner's shell segments shifting outside her field of vision, her eyes staring at the ceiling.

"About the Queen's offer?"

Weaver hummed in agreement.

"You want to accept," the Ghost said, as though directly reading her thoughts—something she wouldn't put it past them being able to do, now that she considered it. "But you're worried."

Scratch that, there was definitely thought-reading happening.

She felt Kali nudge her cheek and then settle down on her shoulder. "Back on Mars, I don't think I would have understood. But now that we've been here…"

The Ghost paused.

"We're old, you know? All of us Ghosts came into being at once. Some of us found our partners right away, others… Well, you know how I found you.

"A true loyalist would say the Vanguard is the only option, that it's our duty to protect the Last City, but we both know that's stupid. We don't have any obligations besides the ones we create. And I think the search for and finding something worth protecting is just as important as anything else, even if it's not the same as everybody else's."

Kali shifted again, white shell pieces sliding against each other.

"So that means you're alright with it?" Weaver asked.

"It means I understand why you might be willing to take a path less traveled, no matter why," her Ghost said, uncharacteristicly solemn. "And if we do this, there's no half-way."

Weaver sighed one last time, before she rested her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes. "Yeah, I know."

---

She stared up into those bright glacial-blue eyes that gave away nothing of the thoughts behind them.

"I accept your offer," she said calmly, knowing that in the end there had been no other choice for her, "… to join your Guard."

This is the path I take.

---

Training does not start immediately. Even before it can begin, there are qualifications to meet, prerequisites she has no basis for, knowledge that she is woefully behind on.

And other simple things, like a place of residence.

They offer her a room in the barracks, but Weaver refuses. She's relied enough already on the Queen's generosity and hospitality.

Unfortunately finding a place to live in the heart of the Awoken empire turns out to be not so easy when you're Risen.

Go figure.

She ends up reverting to not-so-old habits. Unlike Serenna, Merina's slums are almost exclusively Fallen. Still, she finds an apartment block that is more metal and ship-scrap than the amethyst and marble of the rest of the city, and a room that she shares with a Vandal named Verask for a handful of glimmer a month.

The Fallen know what she is.

There is as much wariness from them as she gets from the Awoken, but they also know that she is the same as them: an outcast with nowhere else to go.

The two weeks of self-driven lessons and testing to bring her up to (minimal) spec with the other incoming recruits is harsh, pushing her mentally if not physically without reprieve. The mesh hammock she sleeps in is not the best, but it is far better than many of the situations she'd slept in on Mars and in Serenna, even with the almost sickly-sweet smell of Ether constantly hanging in the air.

It is almost all overwhelming, in a way that surviving and fighting on Mars or sticking to the shadows of alleys never was.

Still, she hears constant sounds and whispered clicks around her in the Fallen district, some combined with pointing at her or Kali, and the few words that she knows from her time skulking around Serenna (ship, glimmer, shards, yes, no, drink, what) are next to useless here.

Eventually she gets fed up of not understanding what's being said to the point that the next time Verask comes home, she starts pointing at objects and naming them followed by "Eliksni «what»?". She keeps doing it until they finally catch on, showing needle-sharp teeth and growl-hissing each item in response as she asks.

She soaks it up alongside her preliminary training, like it's a matter of survival, like a woman surrounded by possible hostiles who are saying things she can't understand.

It's only paranoia if they're not out to get you.

And she knows that there are those not happy with where she is, what she is.

She passes the screening and exams for entrance into the Guard. Her instructor simply gives her a gruff "Congratulations" when she receives her assignment and leaves.

Weaver doesn't see her again for five years.

And then she learns what Hell truly is.

---

The Guards are not the Army. She learned that early on, in the lessons of what her newly chosen role was in the overall Awoken military structure. Nor are they the Armada. The Guards' role is to protect the Queen, the Reef, the Awoken. They act as both bodyguards and specialists, negotiators and enforcers.

And they were, to the last, nothing less than the absolute best.

The woman who had arrested her in Serenna (had it really only been two weeks?) had been a Guard. A rogue Lightbearer in the Reef was the exact sort of a situation the Guard were for. Too dangerous for local forces (not that Serenna had much in the area she'd been), and a possible direct threat to the Awoken and the Queen herself.

Kali shifts slightly in the back of her mind, and Weaver almost wishes that she were manifested rather than hidden away. Her Ghost, on the other hand, had decided that discretion was the better part of valor and Weaver couldn't say that wasn't wise.

She was sure they'd be uncomfortable enough as it was without her Ghost floating around.

She hears hushed voices coming from the room as the new boots of her training uniform tap softly on the hallway until she reaches the open doorway, the voices cutting off suddenly.

At first only a few of the Awoken in the room turn to look at her, but the rest follow suit when they don't look away, and soon enough she has eleven different pairs of glowing, colored eyes looking at her. Eleven. All women.

Eleven out of however many thousands of Awoken were out there, however many hundreds tried to enter.

Each one of them is noticeably in-shape and Weaver has to wonder how many years they spent training and preparing and honing themselves just to get here.

With a nod, she enters the room and moves to take a seat, though none of them begin speaking again.

'They're still staring,' Kali says.

'I know,' Weaver replies, knowing that it's better to just let them be and hopefully get it out of their system. She's here for the same reason as them, after all, no matter how different she is.

The room remains silent until their instructors enter.

---

The first week is evaluations. You might have thought they'd gotten enough of that from the exams and testing, but no, this is for the instructors.

Weaver is by far the best with firearms, and at the top when it comes to outright physical feats, but everything else she is woefully behind in—hand-to-hand, negotiating, general knowledge, knife fighting, archery (which seems to be an old tradition for the Guard), small unit tactics, interrogation, everything. This only seems to alienate her even more from her peers.

She eats lunch at the canteen, the same as the rest, but where the others either form small groups to eat or occasionally all together, she sits by herself, her back to the wall and eyes on the doors. There's an uneasy sense of familiarity she can't place that makes her twitch, always eager to leave as soon as she's done.

The first three months of training they're required to stay in the barracks on-site, which makes her effort to find somewhere to stay in the city seem useless now, but she'd already paid for twelve months in advance.

It's wasn't like she didn't have enough Glimmer, between the amount she'd collected from the Cabal and Vex on Mars, and the two-hundred-plus years Kali had from collecting the stuff for her hypothetical future Guardian.

She sleeps on the bunk in the corner, always facing out.

The training itself is brutal. Her instructors take full advantage of her Light-bolstered endurance and healing (which they've already stopped her from using during the day), giving her no breaks. A few of her fellow trainees even seem particularly vicious in their spars with her, and she learns to avoid pairing with them as much as she can.

She spends her free time everyday on her own. She always devotes an hour to her Light: practicing manipulating the energy inside her, refining her control of it, focusing more on personal effects than anything overt and destructive. Destruction is easy, and she refuses to take the easy route when she knows there's far more to the Light even if she isn't seeing it all now.

Afterwards she goes to the library, trying to learn as much as she can to make up for the decades of education she's missed. Some days she seeks out one of the few Fallen on the base to continue her impromptu unofficial language lessons.

The three months pass, having mostly focused on physical training and discipline.

Her archery is still shit.

Her hand-to-hand is passable, but only because she can outlast her opponents, not because of skill.

She finds it humiliating, and the whispers she sometimes hears behind her back don't help.

Kali is her saving grace, and her conversations and reassurances keep Weaver sane in a way she can never fully repay.

They're allowed to go home, with four days off before they have to come back and continue training.

For some reason, she finds more comfort in the mesh hammock and ether-tinted air, surrounded by six-armed aliens she's only just beginning to understand, than she ever did in that bunk.

She still has nine months of training to go.

Weaver surprises Verask the next day by not only greeting them in Eliksni, but engaging them in a halting and slow, but nonetheless real, conversation about what they'd both been doing the last three months.

She buys fruit from a Fallen stand three blocks away without using a word of Common.

She spends the day wandering around the streets of the Fallen district, listening to open conversations that are almost too fast for her to catch without Kali, memorizing diction and pronunciation as much as she can. Even if she doesn't always know what the words themselves mean.

She does the same thing the next day, and the next, before something on one of the alley walls catches her eyes. She tears the cheap poster off and carries it home to Verask, asking about the words she doesn't know until she finally understands what it's advertising:

A mixed-species bar and open-pit fight club.

Kali immediately wants to go.

Weaver has seen a pit fight before, once, in Serenna. One Fallen up against another, both with spears that crackled dangerously.

She doesn't know what she'll actually end up doing there, but she can't deny her partner, especially after everything Kali has done and been for her.

The next night, they go out, the last night before her return to training, to a squad that is, while not openly hostile, at least uncaring and cold to her.

She walks along the dim alleys until she gets to the entrance, barely managing to follow the ad-hoc street signs the Fallen have put up. It's a simple unassuming metal door, just like all the other buildings, and she could have easily passed it if not for the neon light twisted into Eliksni symbols. Inside is a scene she grew more than a little familiar with in Serenna: dim lighting, 80% Fallen, 20% Awoken.

She's wearing her cloak and unassuming outfit again, bottom of her face shrouded in cloth and Light carefully threaded into her eyes. In an environment like this it almost feels as if she didn't switch cities at all.

Weaving around a couple tables, she heads over to the bartender. They look over at her with a burr in their throat that she's come to associate with unvocalized curiosity.

«Where is fighting?»

«Down,» they start, and then end with a modifier she hadn't heard before but assumes means "stairs" based on where they're pointing with their lower right hand.

«Gratitude.»

'Ooooh this is going to be interesting,' Kali says as they head towards the stairs, and Weaver simply sends her amusement back.

Two flights of stairs later and she emerges into the basement, which is larger than she expected. It's more a cavern than anything, just as dimly lit as the bar above, and smelling like an Ether tank burst. A barely-visible enclosed ring sits at the center, blocked from view by the number of people and aliens around it.

There's yelling and jeering in equal measure, and Weaver threads her way through the crowd until she's able to see what's happening.

At the center of the ring two Eliksni stand, the four hands of one locked with the other's as they both push against each other, wrestling for an advantage. It looks like one finally begins to push the other down, their arms pressing back, before the one below rears back and smashes their head-plate against the other's face, making them stumble back and break the stalemate.

Without mercy the attacker advances, two fast strikes to the left side of their opponents face keeping them off balance before they give a double fisted punch to the other side, needle-like teeth flying out of the their mouth along with a string of blue blood.

The Fallen collapses, and Weaver knows they're not getting up, not with the concussion they likely have. There's screaming until the judge ends a nine-count. The beaten Fallen is dragged out of the ring as the victor raises his hands and strides around the ring to the audience's yells.

Some break away, likely to collect whatever winnings they had from whoever's organizing the betting and leave. Meanwhile the floor of the pit is brushed and then misted with water for some reason.

'It's to keep the dirt packed and solid. So that dust isn't flying everywhere,' Kali says.

There's an odd excitement from her Ghost that she can only characterize as (truly) infectious thanks to the bleed-over.

'I never imagined I'd get to see something like this from up close. Any other Ghosts could be caught and killed if they tried to watch the Fallen like this. But here we are!' her partner adds.

They watch three more fights, the crowd of Fallen and few Awoken around them cycling in and out, before Weaver can't suppress the agitation and antsy discontent she feels and makes her way over to the Fallen who seems to be organizing everything.

«How much enter?»

They stares at her for a moment before cackling. «You want to enter, two-limbs? You will be torn to pieces.»

Frustration, frustration that's been building for so long and is only being made worse by this Fallen not taking her seriously spurs her to reach up and pull her shawl and hood down. «Yes. Want enter.»

"Radi. Lār," the organizer spits before they hiss something she actually understands. "Guardian."

Still, she shakes her head. «No. Queen my Kell. Live here, in Zherran. Heard of me, know. Now. How much enter?»

The Fallen's eyes flick over her face before turning to the slate in their hand. «Two hundred Glimmer,» they finally tell her. «Three more fights at least before a chance for you.»

Kali manifests the money in her pocket and she hands the crystal shards over.

«No weapons. And for you, no Lār-tricks,» says the Fallen.

No Guardian-tricks.

"Eia," she agrees. It's nothing she isn't used to by now.

She can practically feel Kali vibrating in the back of her head in excitement.

Pulling her hood back up but not bothering with the shawl, she moves around the edges of the room until she's somewhere she can spectate while up against the wall.

The next three matches pass, and each one she watches with rapt attention.

The Fallen move in a vastly different way than her opponents for the last three months. They don't hesitate to lower their center of gravity, stabilizing themselves in a half-crouch with their lower arms that can quickly transition to jumping, skittering sideways, or rolling. They favor their upper limbs for anything related to strength, and use their lower limbs to supplement that or for extra mass to help move.

Three matches pass, and it's only because of her catching something relating to a "new challenger" from the announcing Fallen that she pushes off the wall and walks over to the pit entrance.

Weaver's already taking off the shawl and cloak as she enters, throwing them to hang on the pit wall and leaving her in the smooth black and grey skintight armor Kali had fabricated when they'd first arrived, footwear already dismissed.

She pays no attention to the announcer, only studying her opponent. Much like most Fallen, they're slightly taller than her, white plates and leather strips that acts as armor.

«A two-arms!?» They turn to the officiator. «This is ridiculous. It would be like fighting a docked drekh!»

The officiator makes an arm movement that Weaver interprets as a shrug. «She paid.»

Her opponent looks back at her before taking up a stance. «I won't go easy on you, two-arms.»

«Don't want,» she spits back. «Fight me.»

For three months she's been pushed around, beaten black and blue daily, every mark taking its toll even if they were gone the next day. All the anger and frustration she's been repressing comes rushing out at the chance to return that even if only a little bit.

The Light in her flares but she shoves it back down even as her blood boils.

Her opponent makes no motion towards her, simply keeping their position.

"FIGHT ME!" she screams.

The pads of her feet dig into the pit floor as she leans to rush forward, to meet her opponent at the center, and things begin to blur in that familiar haze of rapid movement and adrenaline.

The first strike impacts her forearm as she blocks it, the force and slight pain spreading out familiar and only fueling her more.

She returns the favor by pounding at the armored plates they use to block anything she throws. Her knuckles come away bloody and the white armor stained red, and there's only a small series of cracks in the plate to show for the effort.

It's less painful for her to deflect any blows rather than block, especially those from the Fallen's top set of arms. She takes advantage of an opening she almost misses, stepping in and slamming her closed fist into the exoskeleton where the solar plexus would be on a humanoid, this time leaving noticeable cracks that she allows herself a small bit of satisfaction at.

If the damage hurts them, the Fallen doesn't show it. They fight back just as hard, and she's left with only being able to jab and give sharp knuckle-strikes to the unprotected sections of their arm with the way their reach exceeds hers and is keeping her away.

Sweat beads on her forehead as the Ether in the air clings to the back of her throat. She's not really accomplishing anything now, and at this rate she'll be the one to lose.

Weaver growls.

The only chance to flip this balance is to change the way they're engaging, but how? The impulse of pulling her opponent to the ground and grappling is immediately ignored. This isn't a fight with the other trainees, and she doesn't like her chances at that with a six-limbed opponent that's well acquainted with scurrying around.

The combination of exoskeleton and armor is making it hard to find anywhere that she can leave a mark on that will actually slow them down. Meanwhile, all she has for protection is the skintight armor, even if it does absorb and redirect some of the energy. And much like an exoskeleton, it can only take so much damage. She does have the advantage that her joints are protected while theirs aren't…

Knocking away another arm, she takes a step forward, her toes digging into the dirt floor. To get any chance at damaging her opponent, she has to open herself up. She lets the slight pain of the strikes that reach her fuel her desire to win. Her armor takes the brunt of the force, and allows her to dig her knuckles into the soft flesh on the inside of the elbow of the arm that reached her. The Fallen jerks their arm back with a pained hiss.

The sound is the signal of the fight changing.

The Fallen is aiming at her face now, and she's more defensive than ever while still trying to do as much damage to the joints as she can. It's working just fine besides the aches she can feel starting to set in, until Weaver misses one of the Fallen's fists. Before she can react it impacts her face at full-force.

She steps back, not allowing her footing to falter even with the pain and fuzziness, one of the first lessons she'd learned. Her arms are already back up in guard and she ignores the sudden blurriness in her left eye to knock away the hook the Fallen was following up with.

From there things begin to smear together, the Fallen landing a few strikes to her ribs and another to her face that she's pretty sure loosened a tooth based on the blood in her mouth and could have broken her jaw if she hadn't moved with it. She gives just as good as she gets, though, managing to disable two of their arms, one by dislocating the lower left arm's ball joint, the other by cracking the exoskeleton on the upper right.

She's not sure when, but they end up on the ground in the very position she didn't want to be in, grappling for dominance and to be above the other. Her leg muscles are definitely the stronger between the two of them, and she leverages that advantage for all it's worth, finally getting the Fallen in a submission hold before rapid-punching the side of their head until they go limp, unconscious.

She can't hear anything other than the rushing in her ears when she stands, stumbling for a second from what feels like a ruptured eardrum. The taste of blood is still in her mouth, and she spits it out along with the tooth that had practically fallen out by the end of the match.

It's only when she wipes her mouth that she finds she's been smiling the whole time.

---

She's fully healed when she falls into her hammock at two in the morning, Kali having tended to her as soon as she'd stepped out of the bar. It's like a weight that was on her shoulders that she'd never noticed is finally gone.

She sleeps the best sleep she's had since she was first revived.

All her fellow trainees look at her oddly the next day, and she realizes it's because of her loose satisfaction—this is probably the most emotion she's ever allowed them to see.

They begin lessons on intelligence and tactics, and here at least she doesn't feel as behind and outclassed. The majority of them are all starting out at the same level, save for the three who have past military experience already.

Now physical training is only half the day, and Weaver knows that's going to make it harder than ever to catch up to the rest in terms of skill.

In every other way, it feels like nothing has truly changed.

Three days later she goes back to the fight club.

This time she has some of the same simple armor plates-and-straps the rest of the Fallen have, placed over top of the skintight suit and modified to match her shorter height by Kali.

She fights two matches this time.

She loses the second, but by the end both of them are grinning through blood and sore jaws.

Somehow, it still feels like a victory.

Lessons and training continue. She spends her free time as before: trying to cram two decades of fundamental advanced knowledge into her head, practicing controlling her Light in different ways, walking around Zherran, and now, two or three nights a week, going to fight at clubs.

Verask gives her a shock-dagger, as a cheeky-but-also-not reward for finally not always stumbling over her words in Eliksni. She still doesn't fully understand Fallen humor, and she isn't sure she ever will.

She wears the knife strapped to her leg, sheathed but always present. It eases something in her she never knew was tense. She's always had the odd knife she's used since Mars instantly available with her Light, but somehow the physical presence of the dagger is soothing.

She's sure her peers notice, but they say nothing.

The Fallen who populate the pits start calling her Mraskis, the Eliksni word for 'weaver', and she's pretty sure it's just because 'Weaver' is particularly hard for them to pronounce, because she definitely gave the organizer her name in Common.

It's three weeks before anything changes.

---

Draw. Inhale. Exhale. Release. Fourth Ring.

She's gotten bullseyes before, but they're rare and largely flukes, not a true sign of any improvement, though she is finally managing to actually hit the target at fifty meters. At this point she'll take anything she can get.

"Stop. Just… stop."

Weaver pauses, lowering her bow. She looks over at the Awoken woman who'd spoken, a fellow trainee. Sone Vell.

"You're never going to get anywhere without fixing your stance, first of all," she says primly, and proceeds to use her foot to push Weaver's around a bit before she steps back and looks her over. "Right. Now draw."

Weaver pulls a new arrow from quiver at her hip and nocks it, pulling the bowstring back and sighting it.

Sone moves around her, and the other woman's hands reach out and grasp her shoulders, making a number of adjustments to her posture and alignment before making smaller shifts like how far back her shoulders are rolled.

"Do you feel that?"

Weaver evaluates herself. It's like the bowstring and arrow are almost… easier to hold drawn like this. "Yeah."

"Good. Lower the bow and breathe," Sone tells her, and she does, slowly decreasing the tension until it's held easily at waist-level. "Now draw."

She follows the instruction, only to feel Sone's hands poke at her shoulder blades again. "Hold the position."

Weaver does, trying to memorize how each of her muscles feels.

"Now do it again." She does, and once again Sone adjusts her.

They repeat it twenty times before the other woman seems satisfied. "Good enough for today. We'll work on your footwork tomorrow," she says, as if it's a foregone conclusion.

The Risen blinks, lowering the bow. "I… thanks?"

"Hm," the Awoken hums non-commitally, already twisting away to go to lunch.

That afternoon rather than go home and work on her Light, Weaver spends an extra hour in the training rooms, drawing and firing arrow after arrow, paying close attention to her shoulders and torso, her arms in relation to them.

All of her arrows land in the third ring or higher.

---

Sone keeps her word, and for the rest of the week, the last thirty minutes of training before lunch are spent having her stance corrected and critiqued.

It's not much, but it still feels like something between Weaver and the rest of them has changed.

---

She continues fighting at night. Over the month and some-odd-weeks she's gotten good enough to start participating in ranked events, even if only at the bottom and usually knocked out by the second round.

It's at one of those that she sees a fight between two Captains, their swords clanging against each other in a whirlwind of steel and Arc energy, the dance they seem to have that is at the same time graceful and nothing but violence. She sees that and she knows that she'll never be satisfied until she's able to fight like that too.

Finding a pair of shock-swords isn't particularly hard. Neither is buying them. Kali helps her modify the swords to properly fit her size, a more complicated problem than changing simple armor plates. She finds the process more enjoyable than she expected, and can't help but think of all the weapons Kali has in storage and the changes she could make to them.

Nevertheless, the next time she goes to one of the challenge-sets that has captains, she waits until their match is over and goes to the victor. The Captain's name is Narisk, and he's won far more matches than he's lost based on the conversations of the Fallen who watched next to her.

Steeling herself, she has Kali materialize her shorter swords and before the Captain can react, plunges them blade-first into the ground until they quiver in the hard-packed dirt.

Weaver holds his gaze, not daring to look away or blink. «Teach me. Please.»

He stares at her. After a minute he looks away, turning to her swords. She releases the grip as he reaches for it, and he pulls the blade out of the ground easily, looking it over.

«Well-done changes. Removed blade-material but kept same balance-point. Very good for not being created this way,» he rumbles, returning to her. «But what about you, little weaver? Would you say you are like this blade? Created for something larger but changed to be wielded by something smaller? Something… once lost, and now making the best of the situation it finds itself in?»

She blinks.

She hadn't expected this to suddenly become a philosophical discussion, especially over a personal metaphor she seems to have inadvertently created. It resonates deeply with her, though, now that she sees the parallels. «Yes. Even if I have to change myself to do it.»

The Captain nods. «I understand,» he says, looking at the sword again. «Yes, I understand that well.» He takes a breath that drags through his mask. «Very well. You change, and I will help you learn yourself in this way.»

Narisk stands, handing her the sword. «You will meet me here tomorrow night. Then you will learn.»

With that he turns and walks away, leaving Weaver holding one sword and the other still embedded in the ground.

'What… just happened?' Kali asks.

'I'm not entirely sure myself,' Weaver admits. 'But I think we just got more than we were bargaining for.'

---

And so passes another month. Training. Lessons. Archery practice. Home. Study her Light. Learn more of what she can on her own. Every third day she meets Narisk, otherwise she practices her sword and martial forms. Twice a week she goes out and fights, learning a little more and getting a little better every time.

The eleven Awoken women in her training squad have stopped outright ignoring her and begun warming up to her, especially after she shows them the best ways to hold the different parts of a gun as you strip it for field maintenance and how to recognize different kinds of wear and deal with them.

"How old are you?"

Weaver looks up from her food and the data-slate next to it at Nadia. "What?"

"How old are you? We–" she motions around the small canteen at herself and the other Awoken, who have fallen silent, "have got a bet going. So what is it?"

She tilts her head. "I… Kali brought me back ten months ago."

Nadia stares at her. "Not even a year!?"

Weaver shrugs. "Two months on Mars, and then three in Serenna before the Queen found me."

"How did you get here from Mars?"

"It wasn't on purpose. Well. For the most part, anyways. There weren't any ships I could use to get off the planet, so I had to stowaway on one of the Cabal ships. But the only one I could stowaway on with without them noticing me being on board was one that this rogue Valus was going to use…" she trails off, and Nadia sits down in front of her.

"Was going to use to what?"

"To attack Serenna. At least that's what Kali and I think based on their course, but we managed to disable their ship and push it off course enough to crash outside the city, where it wouldn't hurt anyone. After that I just tried to help people in the city the best I could."

"I…" Nadia turns around and looks at the other Awoken in the room with them, sharing something that Weaver isn't privy to. She takes another bite of her lunch before Nadia turns back to her. "I think we might have started off on the wrong foot. My name is Nadia Mere."

There's many responses Weaver could give to that. A good number of them not-so-gracious. She half wants to throw the obvious "I screwed up" right back in their faces. But that would do good nothing for her. Still, she can't find it in herself to completely forgive them, either. At least not now.

Instead Weaver simply raises an eyebrow. "I know. We've been in the same class for almost six months now."

Nadia's pale blue skin flushes slightly and she looks to the side. "Yes. Well."

And then, just to throw her completely off, she adds, entirely deadpan, "That's over half my life you know."

One of the women at the other table—Rini—snorts, and then starts laughing. The rest just look at her until she's able to get her giggles under control. "What, it was funny!"

The woman crosses her arms. "If she's got a sense of humor she can't be that bad," she defends.

Weaver rolls her eyes.

"But Queen's Tears, a year? You didn't even get any basic-ed?" Rini asks, throwing away the polite fiction of them not paying her any attention and addressing Weaver directly.

"The Queen offered me either a ship to Earth or to join the Guard. I—" Weaver pauses, thinking for a moment. "I assumed she meant immediately. I didn't even think about asking to have time to learn and adjust first." But had she? Thinking about it now, the Queen's words seemed more long-term than immediate. Had Weaver completely missed that opportunity because she hadn't even considered it?

"So you don't know anything, basically," another one of the women says flatly. Rella. One of the colder ones, but at least not Vis or Allora.

"I know enough," Weaver counters defensively. "I know how to survive."

"That's…" Quira shakes her head, and Weaver feels a spark of anger at the pity in her white eyes. "Surviving isn't living. And it's certainly not enough for a member of the Queen's Guard."

There's murmured agreement from the rest of the table.

"So what, what am I supposed to do? Drop out to study for five years?" There's a "That's one way to do it." that Weaver knows came from Vis, but she ignores it."Learn on my own? I'm already trying to do that! Why do you think I've been in the library every day?"

Nadia looks at her with wide teal eyes, glancing back at the other group. "We thought… We thought you didn't want to talk or work or eat with us. That you wanted to be left alone. So we did."

Was that really the cause of this? She didn't reach out, so they didn't either? Was it really that simple?

'It seems like it,' Kali says softly.

'We really are idiots, aren't we?'

'Probably.'

"She's less than a year old, she likely doesn't even know how to interact with people normally," Rini says. "If the first months of my life were trying to survive and getting killed constantly on Mars and then I was thrown at a bunch of people I doubt I would either."

Weaver flushes, both at how demeaning that sounds and how uncomfortably accurate it is. All her other interactions to date have been driven either out of necessity to see something through or conflict. The sole exception is Kali, who's Weaver's other half and thus understands her on a level nobody else can.

"Was that it? You didn't talk to us… because you didn't know how?" Nadia asks.

A quiet, "What else could it be," is muttered.

"Just shut up Vis," Rini snaps back.

Nadia hasn't looked away Weaver. "Was it?" she asks again.

Were they seriously doing this?

Weaver breaks the eye contact, anxiety and discomfort that makes her want to punch something roiling in her gut, anger that they're pressing her like this. "Yes. Okay? Yes. Is that all?"

Nadia seems to get the message, because she stands up. "Yes. Thank you."

They let her go back to her data-slate and food, but Weaver knows that the current arrangement as it stands isn't going to exist for very long anymore.

She's proven right the very next day, when Quira sits down across from her without prompting …and starts asking questions about the things she's been studying. By the end of the conversation, she has a list of books to read. Quira says she has more, but 'these are the most important.'

The next week she starts getting quizzed on them.

She reads about things that happened centuries ago, and yet there are people around who can still remember them. She reads of how the Awoken colonized the Reef, the Schism that created the Earthborn and the Reefborn, the assault that followed and prompted the true development of Vesta into something other than another lifeless rock with the help of creatures that made wishes reality at a price. She reads of the wish-cities that were brought into being, of which Merina is only one, but also the only one the Fallen are allowed to enter.

She reads of the quiet years, the time spent building and growing, the betrayal of Azirim and the Great Hunt of the Ahamkara on Venus, the only time the Guardians of the Last City and the Reefborn Awoken have worked toward a common goal.

There is calm, only noted by the expansion of the Awoken and the Queen's realm.

And then come the Reef Wars.

It's strange, Weaver thinks, how much of history is marked by conflict and strife, how those periods and events have so much more detail devoted to them.

She can still remember Marix's description of the events, and the record of the Awoken offers more information, if not the other side.

There's one thing she notes, that stands out above all else. The Awoken did not attack the Wolves on Ceres because they were invading sovereign territory; they attacked because the Wolves would have turned the tide of the obviously-upcoming battle for the City and overwhelmed them.

She can easily read between the lines.

The Queen did not order the attack for her own sake.

She did it to protect the Last City. She does not want humanity to fall. She would fight for them, even if they didn't know it. She would fight for them, even at the cost of thousands of her own people. For all her ice-cold imperial demeanor and facade, she cares.

And that, Weaver knows, makes all the difference.

Years later, she thinks this is the moment she first truly sees Mara as her Queen.

---

A/N: The foretold (very long) chapter of Weaver's early days is here ...and not even all the way through the year yet. It's... a little rough in areas to me, but I could totally be just imagining that.

To be fair to Weaver here, all of her fellow trainees are basically superathletes and have been seriously preparing for this for years. Going from "literally nothing" to "passable" against them is three months is nothing short of miraculous to her instructors. Of course Weaver can't see that, because she's still losing. :V

As always, please tell me what you think, comments, critiques, etc!