In Turn

by IsraelHandsDown

Eris Morn and The Drifter play a game of cards. Now Multi-Chaptered.

9. Tien Len

A/N: Here's a longer one for y'all. This is an extremely lore heavy chapter, and I'll clarify some things in the end notes.

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Her ship's navigation began to Chirp! alerting Eris to her destination's approach. The bank of a river in South East Asia.

That morning, when she had awoken from another frightful dream—of soot and ash and crumbling towers—she had discovered a message upon her data pad; sent from The Drifter. Confused and somewhat concerned, she had scanned over it quickly—discovering coordinates on Earth, and a scheduled time:

1500 Hours ICT.

She didn't know what to think.

Today was to be their weekly meeting, and the usual arrangement, was for Eris to arrive at the Derelict in whatever orbit The Drifter had settled upon—always running that rat-race of his; that illegal fight club he wasted so much time on— But their usual rendezvous was well into the evening, not early in the day.

What is he up to?

She messaged him back, asking for an explanation, but a minute passed, then two, then three, then several more— and still nothing. She wasn't going to waste her time with his obscure conspiracies, his antics were far too distracting from the greater purpose at hand, and so she dropped the data pad onto her nightstand and went about her normal routine.

Dressing and garbing herself in armor, she was meticulous with how every article of clothing was placed and wrapped; a way of ensuring that she remained hidden at all times. It had been a long time since anyone had seen her...even herself. Mirrors had become her tormentors. It hadn't always been this way.

In her youth, she had given much more care to her appearance. She had even trifled with makeup, thanks in part to Ikora's encouragement. The Warlock had always been far more feminine than her, but Eris had enjoyed futzing around with her soul sister, who had a weakness for shopping in those days. Evenings spent seated upon the floor of Ikora's apartment, experimenting with different looks to the point of sheer eccentricity. They would develop characters to match the style of their clothing and cosmetics, concocting the most outrageous backstories for them; screeching with laughter as they did so. In those days, Eris had enjoyed the rare moments when she and Ikora could simply be girls. Not warriors, not a Hunter nor a Warlock—just two women embracing their feminine nature. Being proud.

Once during one of their louder and more beer-fueled make-overs, Osiris had strolled down the hallway, only to backtrack and fix the two women with the most perturbed expression at the sight of their blue lipstick and overly contoured cheeks. Honestly, his bewilderment simply made them laugh harder, and eventually Osiris shook his head and walked off; leaving Sagira behind to join in their shrieks of good humor.

Those were happier times. Before Ikora found new purpose...before Osiris was cast-out...before the pit...

She didn't want to think about them. It would merely bring pain.

Distraction came, when she caught sight of a blue glow from her nightstand. A tell-tale sign that a new message had been received, and with two quick strolls, she took it in hand once more. Her heart fluttered just the slightest when she confirmed it was indeed from The Drifter, and in the fraction of a second it took to process what she had felt, she was irked over being excited at his moniker appearing.

What was wrong with her? Self-discipline was becoming harder to maintain, and there seemed to be a common denominator for every single slip, no matter how brief—The Drifter.

That man was a blight.

She swallowed down the displeasure rising in her throat as she swiped the screen, finding his message brief and somewhat...disappointing:

Just be there. Trust!

Figures.

She sighed. Honestly, what had she been expecting? The man was never straightforward about anything. His machinations were always cloak and dagger, and with this silent acknowledgement mulling around in her mind, Eris remembered what had happened the last time he had a "surprise" in store. Ceres. Lord help her...she was not going through that again, but the coordinates he had sent were on Earth. Still, that didn't refute the possibility he was going to place her in a precarious situation, so she searched the coordinates:

Vietnam. He was telling her to go to his homeland. Now, her curiosity was truly roused, and as she stood in the confinement of the sanctum she had created, Eris realized just how long it had been since she had neglected her home world. The glowing orb that hung in the blackness of space. From Luna, she could see it so clearly. It was beautiful from afar, but she knew the truth.

Why am I so unfair?

Truly, it wasn't the world itself that had embittered her, it had been the people. And yet—

I'm still trying to save them.

The ironic truth. She didn't dwell too long upon that thought, and without providing him with further reply, she had made her decision.

Now, here she was, descending towards a flat land in a tropical region. A massive river flowing into the horizon, hills of dense trees in the distance, and below, under the shade of a Devil Tree, stood The Drifter. Leaning back against a sparrow in a posture so nonchalant, Eris wondered if he had worried at all that she wouldn't show.

Chim-Ung hovered beside him, and was the first to look up and acknowledge her arrival. The man followed suit, turning his gaze towards her approaching ship, and even from a distance, she could see that cock-sure grin upon his face. Correction—she couldn't see it so much as she could sense it.

Cheeky. Always cheeky.

She allowed the ship to land itself, before powering down. The hiss of the airlock springing free, and she hopped to the ground, standing to face her ever aberrant companion. He remained leaning against his vehicle, hands in his pockets, and sure enough—that grin she had predicted was there in all its glory.

"Ya came!" He announced.

"Did you assume I wouldn't?"

"Nah, never doubted, ya!" The Drifter called back, coming to stand straight and removing his hands from his pockets.

She cocked a brow, not entirely certain he was speaking the truth, "Indeed..."

As she moved towards him, she was met half-way by the little Ghost, who came to hover before her in clear greeting.

Eris nodded, "Good afternoon, Chim-Ung."

A Trill! and a small shake of its shell, and Eris thought how bittersweet it was for the Ghost to feel such elation at addressing it by name. It confirmed what she had suspected. It must have been centuries since he heard it.

She came to stand a few feet from the one who had summoned her, a breeze passing through that rustled the trees and brought leaves to tumble down upon them both. It was autumn for this region, and thankfully so. For the layers of clothing she and The Drifter chose to garb themselves in would have been miserable in the humidity. This time of year was pleasant enough.

"Why have you called me here?" She cut right to the chase, and nearly added her usual moniker for him of Rat as a footnote. She caught herself, there was no need to be insulting; he'd done nothing to warrant it— yet.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he began to saunter towards her, slowly...a smirk on his face, but not one of mockery. No...there was a gaiety in his eyes. The gleam of something, and Eris worried for a moment that once again, she was being led into catastrophe. He drew ever closer, and she startled for the briefest of seconds as he crossed over that proverbial line that brought him into her personal space. And yet...yet...

She did not feel that rush of anxiety she had lived with for so long. No...instead, her heart fluttered and something inexplicable was building inside her—something warm and pleasant. But for all the personal growth she had procured over the past two years, she still worried at the conflict bubbling deep within. Especially when he was as close as he was now—

Too close. He's too close again.

But still, she stood and waited, taken aback as he raised his hand to reach for her. Breath catching in her throat as his fingers plucked free the leaves that had come to lay upon her. One from her head, another from her shoulder—she could feel the fire radiating from him, and smell the gunpowder and red rubber grease he must have been tampering with earlier. Another of his secretive projects.

His eyes never broke contact with her own, and it took all her willpower not to step back from him. There was something in his stare that made her writhe inside, and she was discontented with herself over it.

What is wrong with me?

"Cause," He finally spoke, "I wanna show ya somethin'."

He winked, quickly turning away, and Eris was left to blink some clarity into herself. The spell now broken. He strode back towards his sparrow, Chim-Ung following behind, and she watched the Ghost dissipate as The Drifter nimbly slid onto the seat of his ride.

"Well, get on, Loser!" The Drifter's smile was all teeth, and Eris was left dumbfounded when reality struck her—

Wait...we're going somewhere else?

"Hold on," She stood her ground, "Why give me these coordinates if your plan is to go elsewhere?"

"Cause where we're goin' ain't a good place for ships, darlin!"

She narrowed her eyes, uncomfortable with the thought of leaving her ship unattended in an unfamiliar place, and frankly, annoyed with his lack of common sense.

"I could have left my ship in orbit," she pointed out, "Just leaving it like this—"

"Nah! It'll be fine!" He cut her off, his sparrow roaring to life, "Hop on!"

Now the anxiety was returning. He was leading her into the unknown once more, while also placing her in a situation of sheer carelessness regarding the safety of her ship. What about scavengers? Raiders? Any of the enemies of humanity? She had lost one ship before, she couldn't afford to lose another.

Quite literally—she couldn't afford it.

Eris didn't move. She was being placed into another situation where she was ill-prepared and at the mercy of his scheming. She didn't like it. Not one bit, and she felt anger flickering inside her at the thought that the man found humor in it all.

She was not a toy to be played with.

"Where are you taking me, Rat?" Now using that title felt warranted.

She didn't think it were possible, but his smile grew, "It's a surprise!" He shouted over the engine, and OH!— was that the wrong thing to say to her.

"No! No more surprises!" She folded her arms, and instantly regretted the gesture. It was juvenile, but if she were to uncross them now, it would merely make the situation awkward for herself.

She watched as he tilted his head back, growling, "Come on, Three-Eyes! Ya can't still be mad over that little Ceres thing!"

Little?! Is he kidding?!

Honestly, she wasn't mad about it. Annoyed yes, but not mad. But The Drifter didn't need to know that.

"You placed me in a humiliating situation," She put all the authority she had into her voice, "Never again will I acquiesce to any of your surprises."

Even from where she stood, she caught the most minute eye-roll from him, and the urge to provide him with a nose job free of charge was rising.

"This is different!" He began to explain, "There won't be other people! Just you and me— and the Dumbass!" Remembering his Ghost as an afterthought, he scoffed.

She didn't answer, didn't budge, and as per usual, they had locked each other in a stalemate.

We're both so stubborn. How have we made it this far?

She ceased that thought immediately. Worried at what exactly they had forged through reluctant cooperation, boredom and sheer...loneliness.

"Come on, Moondust..." She startled at his change in tone, catching the sound of something more endearing, "You and me...us...the outdoors on a brisk day in fall...under a blue sky... strollin' together...all alone—so romantic."

Eris nearly choked on her own air.

"You are not winning your case with comments like that, Rat!" She sneered, but he laughed at her.

"Oh, lighten up, darlin'!"

No. Absolutely not. She would not react.

And yet—there was something that had stirred within her. It was a flash, so fleeting she wasn't certain it had even occurred. But still—none of this should be of any consequence. The world was about to end.

Have we lost sight? We've strayed so far off the path.

"There are pressing matters at hand," She reminded him, "We have work to do, or have you forgotten?"

He fixed her with a look she couldn't quite decipher. There was a scrutiny in his gaze, but soft humor played at his expression.

Why is he looking at me that way?

"Just spend the day with me, Moondust," He paused, "Please?"

And there was something about his words and the tone of his voice that caused her heart to soften and leap into her throat. That wall she had put up so long ago forming a microscopic crack. What should she say?

He said please...

He stopped her before she could find the words, "It's a special day today..."

"It is?" She blinked.

"It's my birthday!" His smile was so big and so audacious.

Lord, he was relentless. He was a well of sarcasm and manipulative stratagem, and despite how intelligent and clever Eris herself was, there was something of naivety about her when it came to emotional administration. Much to her embarrassment. The Drifter on the other hand, clearly had a strong grasp of psychology. Still, Eris greatly disliked when he tried to emotionally extort her like this.

She sighed, "Just so you know, I do not entertain any of your claims for one second. But—since I came all this way, to turn around and be done with it all without seeing productivity for my efforts, would simply be...a waste. And I will not allow my time to be wasted."

With that said, she closed the gap between them.

"Atta girl!" He shouted, and inched forward to give her more room upon the seat.

His sparrow was unique. She had no doubt he had built it himself, and after giving it a quick glance over, she silently admired his handy work. Just one more praise she had to be certain he never heard. But a problem was arising—

Climbing on without having to hold him for support.

Eris feared physical contact with anyone, and was loathe to admit that secretly she craved it. She was ashamed for snapping at other Guardians when they had come to stand too close to her, but there was so much bottled up inside—so much. True, The Drifter was constantly invading her personal space...but...but the truth was...

What is the truth?

A nagging in the back of her mind—a contradiction of longing for something, while also dreading when it was before her.

No. She was on edge from several nights of tormented nightmares, restless sleep, and lack of food. She hadn't properly eaten in four days, resorting to picking away at dried fruit and seeds to make it through her days. If Ikora knew...Eris would never hear the end of it. That was the reason. That was the excuse. She was just being skittish, it had nothing to do with the man before her.

She placed her hands upon the leather of the seat instead of his shoulders for balance. The pulse rifle she had witnessed him carry upon his back, was holstered upon a racking over the airbox, and as she brought her leg up and over, she had to tuck it behind the stock. The motion causing her to falter for just a second, and yet, she refrained from grabbing onto him to steady herself. She didn't want that contact. It would be...it would just be...

"How far are we going?" Paranoia about her ship ended her thoughts on physical proximity.

"Ummm..." He thought a moment, "On this thing—''bout, thirty minutes east."

"Thirty minutes?!" She blurted, "Why so far? I'm not comfortable with this, Rat—"

He glanced over his shoulder at her, that smirk still there. Always there. A knowing look in his eye to put her at ease—

"Trust!"

And with that, they shot forward. Eris' stomach lurching at the sudden sensation of speed, and she could hear The Drifter chuckle, as she used her core and locked her legs upon the chassis to keep from falling back.

Ass!

She still wouldn't hold onto him. The centripetal force would keep her upright, so she kept her hands on her knees as he navigated along the river, banking to the right and into a field of tall grass. The wind howled in her ears as the world passed by, and chilled the portion of her face she left exposed. She could smell the jet fuel of the sparrow, and the petrichor of the wet earth beneath them. The air was thick with humidity, and yet still seasonally brisk. It was pleasant, and she took a second to breathe it in deeply.

How good it feels.

The force of the air blew her cloak behind her, and likewise, the tails of The Drifter's coat lifted back onto her knees; covering her lap like a blanket. In the coolness of the air, it was a pleasant relief, creating something warm and soothing, and Eris worried at it for a moment.

It's just his coat. Not him.

It would not count as physical contact, and with that, Eris allowed herself to relax and enjoy the ride. Her fidgetiness was becoming a thorn in her side, trying so very hard to dominate over her this day.

I will not submit. I won't!

She needed to focus on something else, find a distraction. She turned her attention to the trees lightly bowing their limbs in the breeze as they passed, and the distant hills that loomed ever closer. He was taking them far into the wilderness, and she contemplated the design of the terrain. She had never been to what was once the land of Vietnam. In all her years of travel, she had never strayed so far south. No, as a Hunter, she tended to keep to the north and the west. Exploring the mountain passes and the deepest forests, following rivers that emptied into hidden lakes. That was part of what it meant to be a Hunter, there was a bond with nature that was strong.

To stand on cliffs and look down at a world that whispered secrets. Every tree, every rock...they could speak of ancient mysteries, they told stories of a world long since passed.

She had craved higher venues. Places that reached into the sky at the top of the world, and so, she had never traveled to this region. She had planned to...she had wanted to. She had wanted to see every corner of the world, but...but then...

I lived so long among the Hive. Longer than I had among my own kind.

Her fingers gripped the fabric upon her knees, stifling the rising tremble at a thought that haunted her always—

Does that mean...I am not truly a human?

No! Stop!

She refocused on the region, noticing that The Drifter had taken them back along a trail that was leading into a canyon, and she was awe struck by the looming formations of rock draped in vegetation. The emerald green so rich and vibrant! A stark contrast to the monochromatic dreariness of her home upon the moon. Drained of all color and life. She could feel the temperature drop somewhat as they entered the ravine, The Drifter steering their ride over and around the fallen trees and boulders that hindered their path. Their speed never faltering, and his reflexes allowed for their journey to remain smooth—almost effortless.

It was clear, he knew every inch of this terrain. This was his land.

What a beautiful country he comes from...

Several minutes more, and she could see the exit before them; like a part in a set of shot out of the shadowed gulch and Eris flinched as the bright sun struck her sensitive eyes. Blinking away the discomfort and the blur until she could clearly see a massive valley below. They rode along a neglected dirt trail and towards a plateau littered with fallen trees that had become, in a sense, lumber, and The Drifter steered them right into the heart of it; tapping the break to slow them into a smooth stop.

"Well," He shouted, "We're here! Hop off, hun!" He cut the engine, and Eris hesitated for just a moment; eyeing the area.

She was, frankly...confused. They had transitioned from a beautiful land of green and prosperous nature into a place of rotting vegetation and scrap metal. She could see the remains of rusted steel and iron, both piled and scattered about, as though dumped in a spontaneous junk yard by inconsiderate persons.

Turning her gaze east, she spied fields that were clearly once rice paddies, but had turned to muddy bogs. The whole area just...stank of decay. Hidden away and forgotten.

Why bring me here?

The place was most unseemly, and she wracked her brain for some sort of reasoning. Trying to find a conclusion before he could thrust any surprises upon her.

"Hey, darlin'?" The Drifter's voice cut through her observational thoughts, "Ya gonna sit there and gawk all day? Get-on down now so we can get this show on the road!"

Her eyes flicked to him, finding him grinning over his shoulder as he watched her with amusement; clearly seeing how confused she was. Once more, she had the distinct impression he was up to something—mischief brewing within his eyes—

An internal sigh, and she resigned herself. Too late to turn back now. Besides, he was her ride, and so, pushing the bottom of his coat aside, she slid her leg carefully back from the stock of his rifle. Allowing her legs to adjust to a standing position, she stepped to the side as he came to join her, adjusting his coat before summoning Chim-Ung who popped into existence beside him.

"Where are we?" The remains of burnt out electrical conduits caught her eye, coiled around shards of petrified wood.

He chuckled, "Just a little place in the middle of nowhere."

That response caused her eyes to narrow his way, "Your vague answers are always the highlight of my week."

Throwing a little sarcasm his way, she watched as his smile grew, and he bounced slightly on his toes; not insulted in the least.

"Come on now, darlin!" He sauntered backwards, throwing his arms open in a grand presentation of their surroundings, "It's a great big world! Why not get lost every now and then?!"

Lost?

"What do you mean? Do you even know where we are?" She couldn't be certain if he was being serious or simply trifling with her. The bastard had a talent for it.

That teasing expression he wore...shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth upon his heels, chewing his lip. He said nothing.

"Rat..." There was a warning in her tone, "Why did you drag me out here—in the middle of nowhere as you've said?"

His trademark smile was in place, "For our weekly game of course!"

It was nonsense, plain and simple, and apparently, even Chim-Ung had grown weary of his riddles, for the Ghost looked her way and shook its shell; a gesture that made her think the little light was saying: "Don't listen to him—he's a moron."

She raised a brow, her chin slightly dipping in subtle acknowledgement of the Ghost; letting him know that she understood.

"And what is so wrong about having it onboard your junk heap as per usual?" A smirk of her own creeped upon her lips, "You having it fumigated?"

That earned her a pout.

"Even I get sick'a bein' cooped up, Three-Eyes." There was a hint of seriousness in his words, and he spun on his heel; turning his back to her.

"This-a way!" He declared, raising his arm to point further into the circle of rubbish, "Vamonos!"

And with that, he began to march away from her.

"Hold on, Rat!" She called out, "Are you serious? We're playing a card game here?"

But he didn't stop, nor did he look back, "Si, Senorita!"

Flabbergasted, she watched as Chim-Ung made his own departure, floating behind his Chosen who neatly hopped over a pile of logs. They were getting further away, and Eris took a second to compose herself. She was tired, her mind a whirlwind of so many things, and confused at the sheer lack of logic the man seemed to be exercising today. Why give her useless coordinates? Why make her fly her land her ship when she could have just transmatted? In fact...why did they take a sparrow when they could have just transmatted from the Derelict directly to this spot? It was all so confusing.

The Drifter didn't give headaches—he was one.

A Chirp!, and she watched Chim-Ung turn to call back to her, encouraging her to follow, and with a silent sigh of resolution, Eris trailed after the man and his Ghost. She caught up quickly, and fell in stride beside The Drifter; Chim-Ung floating in between them.

"May I inquire as to why you would choose this place for our weekly engagement?"

They stepped over more debris and bald patches of earth, and Eris watched The Drifter's attitude remain nonchalant as he pondered her question and shrugged,

"Meh, like I said, it's in the middle o'nowhere. Seemed good enough."

Wonderful.

Another answer that wasn't truly an answer at all. Why did she even bother anymore?

"Over here—"

She startled when he brought his arm up, nearly clothes-lining her as he pointed across her line of vision to the right.

"Watch it, Rat." She glared, but that merely garnered a chuckle from him, as he cut in front of her; making his way to the area he had indicated. A small slab of cracked concrete; nearly reclaimed entirely by mother Earth.

Strange...had a building once stood?

Maybe this had been an outpost.

Chim-Ung fluttered past them both, a beam of light from his lone eye scanning the ground before producing a pixelated glow, and Eris watched as the little drone summoned a small foldable table with matching stools into the middle of the cemented area. A makeshift set-up for them. A way to indulge their customary ritual in the outdoors; the ground was level enough for it.

"Did ya forget the beer?!" The Drifter eyed Chim-Ung, who returned his gaze with a narrowed shutter upon his shell. Silent communication passing between them, as the Ghost clearly expressed its opinion, that despite what the man thought about him, he was "Not an idiot!"

Another flash of light produced two bottles of beer upon the table, and even from where she stood, Eris could recognize the label. Not a cheap brand at all, and she was reminded of how strangely The Drifter had more sophisticated tastes than his appearance suggested. The contradictions continued to flow with no end in sight.

"Hey, Moondust!" He beckoned for her to come closer, "Ya waitin' for a stamped invitation, or did someone forget to turn the dog fence off?"

Oh, that cretin!

She glared, but approached nonetheless.

"Keep speaking to me in such a manner and see what happens, you cockroach."

His eyes widened, and a bark of laughter escaped him, "Damn, woman! You is vicious!"

"Hmph." She stood before the table now, and faced him, watching as he gazed back at her with glittering eyes and a grin that wouldn't quit.

She said nothing more, but neither did he, and in an instant—an awkward silence fell. Eris was unsure what to say or do to alleviate it. The Drifter staring with anticipation, but for what, she hadn't a clue.

"Um," She cleared her throat, "Are we playing cards or having a staring contest, Rat?"

He chuckled, "I'm waitin' for ya to take a seat, darlin'" He brought his hand to his heart and sighed dramatically, "What kinda man would I be if I sat before a lady?"

She was taken aback. Shocked that he would know such etiquette. Old fashioned, yes. A classic practice of chivalry from a bygone age, and Eris felt strange about adhering to it. She had never been seen as a Lady before...she had never even referred to herself as such, and in all honesty, she was hesitant to sit first. It would feel...strange. However, when a Trill! from Chim-Ung disrupted the quiet, she glanced his way to see the little Ghost gesturing for her to be seated first. A kind gesture, and she realized that both the man and the Ghost were trying to be gentleman.

It was...touching. She was flattered, and felt a tinge of guilt.

I'm always so quick to acrimony.

She took her seat, The Drifter following likewise, reaching into his pocket as he did. She watched him remove a deck of cards, popping the top of the pack open to slide them out in one fluid motion.

"Ya ever play Tien Len?" He began shuffling the cards with an unnatural speed, and once again, Eris was nearly mesmerized by the sight.

Tien Len? Why does that sound familiar?

She knew many card games. She had played constantly with her fireteams—both of them. It was one of the few things she had excelled at more than any of her friends. Even the Vanguard. She'd beat Ikora every time. Zavala hadn't been too good a player either, and he'd usually fold to her. Cayde was the only one who ever gave her a challenge, but still, she'd humiliate him in every game.

"Perhaps," She thought a little harder, "I think I do..."

He smirked, "Maybe ya know it as Thirteen?"

Ah!

"Yes. I do know that one." She nodded.

"Alright, alright, alright! Same game, same rules!" He announced, as he slid the top card off the deck, holding it up for her to see: FOUR OF DIAMONDS. Then, before her eyes, he flipped the card through each of his fingers; the suit and number shifting with each pass:

FIVE OF CLUBS — JACK OF HEARTS — THREE OF SPADES.

A cheap little parlor trick, but wondrous to watch nonetheless. His hands continued to amaze her...but she'd never let him know that.

"Ya get the honor of startin' us off, darlin'."

He slid the card across the table to her, and Eris realized something:

"Aren't we short players? It's customary for four in a single game."

He shrugged, "Yeah, but we ain't got many friends now, do we?"

She pressed her lips together at his response. Leave it to him to insult himself just to get a blow in on someone. He was the sort of man who would enact the proverbial—"cutting his nose of for spite" deal without hesitation. Of that she was certain.

"The game doesn't quite work for two people." She was always the sensible one it seemed.

"Ah," He held up a hand, "But we can play with three and still get a good game outta it."

She cocked a brow, but with how quickly the confusion came, realization came with equal speed. Chim-Ung came to hover at the side of the table, indicating that he too would be playing with them. Eris hadn't expected that, but was charmed nonetheless at the idea the Ghost would finally be interacting more fully with them that evening.

"Hey!" The Drifter pointed sternly at Chim-Ung, "I wanna nice clean game, got it?!"

The Ghost clearly wasn't amused, and turned slightly upon the man with a visage that clearly read "The Drifter could take those cards and shove them—"

"Ah!" The Drifter barked back, quickly dealing the allotted cards between them, "Don't gimme that! Playin' all innocent in front-a Moondust! You and your creepy lil' crush on her!"

Eris blanched. She knew The Drifter wasn't serious, but he was insulting the little light while also putting her on the spot. She did not appreciate that one bit!

"Please tell me you will be ceasing your juvenile degrading of us as we proceed with our game? I am in no mood for your immaturity, especially at his expense."

She gestured towards Chim-Ung, who seemed to hold his shell a little higher. The two of them the adults in this situation.

The Drifter stared at her, as he sat aside the remainder of the unused deck, "This is a small word zone, got it?"

Ah, so he hadn't understood her. She fought down the grin, "You wish me to dumb down my vocabulary for your sake?"

There it was—his bratty pout.

"Do I make you feel guilty, Three-Eyes?" He scooped his cards up, fanning them out, "Do you feel the need to lower your standards when I'm around?"

Woah..hold on a second...

She didn't know how he did it, but he had flipped the insult in a whole new direction. Painting her as the villain once more and himself as the victim of her despotic nature. Eris paused, watching a smirk slowly grew upon his face; eyes glimmering with such mischief. He knew he had her, and was waiting for her counter-attack. But no—she wouldn't give him the satisfaction!

She scooped up her own cards, and turned her attention to them instead. A silent indication that she would not be goaded into a fight. She fidgeted with her hand, rearranging it in a compulsive manner; causing the suits to stand in their proper order. She could feel his eyes still upon her, and she chanced a glance up to quickly observe that he was watching her with a most irritating expression. He was not going to win! But hell...he was doing a damn good job of pushing her buttons without having to say a word!

How?!

As she figured, it was merely an additional agitation feeding her pre-existing anxiety. The past several days had been highly stressful, and her emotional and mental health was not stable to begin with. He was like a fly that kept buzzing around her food. Just one more irritation. Still, the best tactic was to ignore it all.

So, she placed the THREE OF SPADES in the center of the table, officially starting their game.

Chim-Ung was next in the proper rotation, and the little Ghost used his beam of light to quickly scan his cards that remained face down for fairness sake. Having made a choice, he flipped one onto Eris' play. A SIX OF SPADES.

The Drifter quickly added a SIX OF DIAMONDS, the suit playing higher to Chim-Ung's Spade, but Eris could beat the number:

EIGHT OF HEARTS.

Chim-Ung paused a moment, then flipped a QUEEN OF DIAMONDS onto the pile.

"Ha!" The Drifter scoffed, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the TWO OF DIAMONDS onto the pile.

Eris glanced to her own cards. There were options, but his card was a rather high play...

"Pass." She murmured.

Chim-Ung shook his shell, choosing to pass as well, and so, The Drifter cleared the table.

"Aw, poor baby!" The Drifter stuck out his lip, directing his mockery at Chim-Ung, and the Ghost glared back, letting out a short Squawk! in rebuttal.

Though it was harmless heckling, Eris hoped The Drifter would keep his attitude in check. He knew she greatly disliked when he verbally bashed his Ghost in front of her, and after the last incident—well, she expected more considerate behavior. But, alas—

"I know your sorry ass is prone to cheatin', but ya gonna play fair today!" The Drifter went on, "O'else I'm gonna crack that shell open and make a bisque outta ya!"

Ugh!

She could use that beer right about now.

Placing her cards down, Eris grabbed the waiting bottle as her other hand drew the blade from the holster beneath her cloak. A swift flip, and she popped the cap off the bottle, the clank! of the metal striking the ground as it bounced away; drawing the attention of both the man and his Ghost. She took a swig, glaring as she did. A silent message that she was waiting for him to shut his mouth and resume the game. She did not come to watch them bicker.

He eyed her, a spark of amusement upon his face, as he grabbed his own bottle; raising it to his lips. She stared in shock as he popped the cap off with his teeth, spitting the stopper to the side to join her own upon the concrete. He smirked as he took a long swig; sighing and licking his lips when he finished.

Eris sneered, "How barbaric."

That earned her a laugh, "Ya think that was barbaric?! I once knew a gal on Pallas who had a very—interestin' way of openin' a beer bottle..."

He wagged his eyebrows as he took another swig. A Squawk! from Chim-Ung, and the shaking of his shell delivered a gesture of disgust, telling Eris all she needed to know. There was a foul taste in her mouth now.

"Ugh, Rat! What company you keep— what is wrong with you?"

"Hey!" He pointed at her, "Don't be castin' stones, Moondust! You is part of that company now."

He had a point, but she most certainly was not categorically in the same league as these...pirates, mercenaries...criminals...whatever he wanted to refer to them as.

"I most certainly am not a part of your...crew." She spat out the last word, as though it were bitter to the taste.

He cocked a brow, "Are you degrading my friends, Three-Eyes."

Oh, she had him!

"You just said earlier that you do not have any friends, Rat." She couldn't help the small smirk that curled upon her.

She had called out his own contradiction, but her good humor faltered when she saw a smirk of his own.

"Nu-uh, Moondust...I said I didn't have many friends, not that I didn't have any friends."

Goddammit.

She had walked right into that. But she could still win this—

"Oh, silly me," She mocked, bringing a hand to her heart, "And here I thought you were the most hated man in the known universe. My mistake."

Her sarcasm simply fueled his own entertainment.

"There ya go again, Three-Eyes." He added a dramatic gasp at the end, "Comin' into someone else's house as a guest and insultin' them. Such a lack of manners!"

If that was meant to be an insult, it was a weak one.

"I don't know what you mean, Rat. As you can see," She waved her hand to emphasize their environment, "We're in the middle of nowhere."

And at her words, his smirk grew substantially. Eyes unblinking as they bore into her, and Eris felt the chill of something run through her. This hadn't been the reaction she anticipated.

What is he—

Her thoughts were cut off as he spoke:

"No we ain't. You're sittin' in my livin' room, darlin'."

Silence. Dead silence. She blinked, trying to process what he was saying.

"What?" A croak had formed in her throat, her voice a rasp.

His smirk was still there, but the strength of it wavered. He still watched her, but it wasn't with scrutiny. No...no...there was a plea in his eyes. Something he was trying to convey to her.

What does he want? What is—

She froze. One heartbeat, then two, then she turned in her seat and looked—truly seeing for the first time. The remains of a house. A small one, more like a hut, but a home nonetheless. She could see where the walls once stood, and the rusted sheet metal that had been the roof. Collapsed, scattered about...

His home...this is all that remains of his home. Which means—

As though reading her thoughts, The Drifter provided confirmation.

"Welcome to Eaton."

It was like being caught up in a trance. Eris was watching herself from the outside, being pulled on a string as she rose to stand; taking in the area. How had she not noticed? The remains of a village! A farming community built on the edge of a field of rice. The petrified wood, the rusted metals, the remains of electrical cables and mechanical gear. This was the village he had spoken of. Where he had been a man named Germaine.

It was gone...all gone.

"What happened here?" Her voice was light, but filled with bewilderment, and she turned to regard The Drifter.

However, his face that had once held amusement was now livid, and Eris startled as she watched his eyes shift in Chim-Ung's direction. He glared with a fury unbridled, and she watched in shock as the Ghost shuddered, lowering its eye and cringing away from the table. Pure distress— absolute despair coated the little light's entire form, and the tension was so high, so thick, that Eris felt no knife could cut through it.

What is going on?

Her own disquiet rising, as she further observed The Drifter. His jaw tightly clenched, she could see the muscles spasming beneath bis beard, while his nostrils flared as his breath became heavy. This was rage, this was murderous frenzy trying to break out—and it was all directed at little Chim-Ung. Eris heart began to race, confused and worried. For if The Drifter could look at his Ghost in such a way...if Chim-Ung could cringe like a beaten animal before their eyes...what had the Ghost done?

The sound of glass exploding, and Eris jumped as she watched the beer bottle in The Drifter's hand shattered under the pressure of his grip. He had squeezed so tightly the glass caved; shards and beer now covering the table. She froze. Unsure what to say or do, as The Drifter broke free from his anger, looking down at his hand and the remains of his drink. Thankfully, he had kept his gloves on, sparing his hands from any injury, but he was now drenched in beer. He stared, as though unsure what had just happened. It was unnerving to Eris, the expression on his face one of bewilderment; she wondered if he had lost touch with reality for a moment.

She would not be at all surprised. She would do the same from time to time.

Neither spoke. He gathered himself, while she waited. There was no rushing these sorts of things, less the mind become more damaged.

"Warlords shot up the place." His voice was so hoarse, she could barely make it out, "Warlords...found us. They came and slaughtered everyone. Burned the place down."

It would be a lie if she said she was surprised. This wasn't a new story. Hundreds of villages had fallen in a similar fashion, that's why the Pilgrim Guard had formed in the beginning. Those who survived went to the City. Became refugees...just like her parents.

"The Iron Lords..." He croaked out, "they had come..."

She startled when he mentioned them. The Iron Lords were involved somehow? How...how did Eaton fall then? If they were here, then surely the place would have had protection.

"They set us up. Laid a trap. Used us as bait."

No! No, he is wrong! There must be some misunderstanding!

A tremble passed through her. She tried to find a shift in his words, something to give away that he wasn't being completely honest with her, but all she heard was candor. If it was the truth...did that mean these notions, all these glorious notions she had kept throughout her life, were...wrong? Finally, his eyes left his hand to look to her. Anger churning inside his eyes, and she noticed they were...brown.

They're brown now?

"When I came here...I kept what I was a secret." There was strength in his voice, but also sorrow, "They didn't know I was Risen. I told my Ghost to stay hidden, and I pretended to be normal."

Eris swallowed, feeling the longing he was trying to convey to her. Of wanting to belong.

A small smile began to form upon his lips, and his eyes softened just the slightest bit, "No one ever knew my secret. Cause if they did, they would treat me different—and I didn't wanna be different. But..."

He paused, she could see a memory flashing by, "The village was strugglin'. The land wasn't very good, and the seasons were harsh. So, I cheated a little." Humor rising once again to his face.

Eris blinked, unsure what he meant.

"I used my light when no one was around." He explained, "I would make storms come when there were draughts. Make the soil nice and rich."

She internally gasped, her form nearly twitching in awe at what he had just described.

So, he IS a Warlock, after all!

"I'd even summon wild animals into the area. Make 'em easy to hunt." He chuckled, but it was bittersweet, "And they never knew. Some thought it was luck, others thought the Gods were showin' us mercy...that's why I stayed quiet."

Oh, she understood. If they knew of his power—

"They would think you a God." She spoke for him.

He nodded, "Yeah. I don't wanna be no God."

A pause. A far-off look in his eyes, "Do you know how glorious it is to be plain? To live a simple life?"

Something was burning inside of Eris, for in all her years...for everyone she had ever known...she had never met a person so humble as he. Her eyes saw him anew.

He ceased his talk. A second's pause and then he stood, wiping his hand upon his coat.

"I wanna show you somethin'." His voice gentle, and there was the hint of a question in his tone. Giving her an opportunity to choose for herself whether she wanted to delve deeper into his past.

She did! Gods above, how she wanted to know!

She bestowed him a nod, and he turned to lead the way, Chim-Ung hovering along.

She followed him, leaving behind the remains of the house—his house—towards a place where the ground lay flat; overgrown with grass and filled with stones. They crossed what must have been the main road, and moved past the rubble of what could have once been workshops and the homes of his neighbors. He moved with reverence, carrying a restraint she had never seen in him, nor did she think he was capable of. The fluidity of his steps, revealing he knew this place, he knew where everything had once stood, and Eris began to think that in his mind's eye, he was seeing the place he had once known.

Lanterns and banners strung for the holidays. The smell of wood burning within the hearths. Homecooked meals, and the talk of things that were to come behind walls of wood and steel. Of harvests and family affairs. Of hopes and dreams.

Out here, in the middle of nowhere...how beautiful the stars must have looked in the night sky.

Coming to stand at the edge of a land made of grass and stone, Eris reached The Drifter's side, looking to him for an explanation, but he said not a word. Instead, his gaze was filled with such heaviness, she could actually feel the burden of it. Should she speak? If she were to say anything, would it be a violation? Thankfully, he was the one to break the silence:

"This is all that's left of them." His voice so soft and doleful.

Them?

That phrase...the way he said it...it sent a chill through her, and she followed his gaze towards the field; seeking out what he clearly saw. But her eyes were not seeing, for a minute passed, and another, until she finally saw it—and when she did, her heart sank.

The rocks were not random. No, they lay in rows. Hundreds of them, and Eris realized what they truly were. Graves. They were standing on the edge of a graveyard.

These are the graves...of the people of Eaton.

The rising sensation of dismay and sorrow at the understanding of what lay before her; sinking into the deepest part of her soul.

His people. His friends.

Silence. A reverence. It hung so heavy in the air, and Eris found herself having to look away. Back to The Drifter and the little Ghost who hovered beside him. She watched as they shared in the same countenance, a fatigue of grief that didn't feel old at all, but still fresh and new.

She understood this. She knew this.

It never ends.

"I come here every year. On the anniversary of our deaths. I come to pay respect—to honor them." His voice was soft, almost distant, "For a time...I neglected them. I stayed away for too long. But now that I'm back...I can make up for all the lost time."

The sheer sincerity in his tone, and the humility of his words...a lump was forming in her throat. This was something special, something sacred, and Eris began to feel she was nothing more than an interloper.

Why bring me with him? I shouldn't be—

And then she went cold...terribly cold. His words...a sudden realization at his choice of words. Her heart now pounding. What he said...what he had just said—

"—On the anniversary of our deaths—"

Oh my God...

The semantic wasn't lost on her.

"It...it really is your birthday!" Her voice barely a whisper, but filled with all the shock and awe she possessed in that moment.

He hadn't been joking! He had been serious!

"Yeah," He acknowledged her words, and paused a moment; biting his lip. "This is the day Germaine died."

And The Drifter was born.

He didn't have to say it out loud. Once again, as usual—as always—she hadn't given him enough credit, and Eris wanted to slap herself. He had invited her to share in a tradition on the day he was born anew.

Silence once more. Not awkward, but solemn. This was all so much to take in...so much. She was spared from having to speak more, as The Drifter reached out, closing his fingers gently around her wrist. His lifeline...his connection to the present, as he led her into his past. She allowed him to lead her through the sea of grass, Chim-Ung following closely. The breeze whipped up The Drifter's coat, and her cloak came to join it. The wind entangling them, as if to say: "Don't let go!" For if they did, one of them would be lost forever.

They came to stand before a mossy stone, plain and unmarked save for the natural blemishes of time, and it shook Eris to realize that this marked where someone lay. She had known death all her life, and she had seen beloved friends fall to it over and over again. But this...what the man beside her was presenting, was something she both feared and loathed.

The final death. The one from which no soul can return.

"This is Dan-Dan." His voice soft, yet scratched and raw, "He was the best farmer around. Knew everythin' there was to know 'bout cultivatin' soil and tendin' crops."

He paused, gathering his thoughts, and Eris felt he could take all the time he needed.

"He was old." A chuckle escaped him, "But goddamn! That ol' geezer had more drive and energy than any of us!"

There was such fondness when he spoke of this man. An appreciation and respect that brought a warmth to Eris' chest. She could see Dan-Dan in her mind's eye:

A small man, darkened and grizzled from years in the sunlight. There was pride in his face, and a strength that defied his age.

A man deserving of respect and honor. What a full life he must have led.

Her thoughts shifted, when The Drifter pulled her along once more, coming to stand at another stone.

"This is Jasper." She could hear a chuckle building up inside him, "He was a skinny kid who could swap out a rotor faster than ya could spit a lipper!"

The chuckle finally escaped him, and Eris glanced over to find him reliving fond memories of this young man he spoke of—

"He weren't so good on his feet though—he had the gifted hands of a mechanic, and the feet of a duck!" He barked out his laugh, and leaned forward, towards the stone, "And that's the truth!"

He wasn't addressing her, but the man who lay in the grave beneath them. The grace of Jasper must have been a very long-standing argument between he and the other villagers, and Eris found the smallest smile forming on her own lips. Thinking back to a different time— when she had been in Ikora's fireteam, when she had served with a Guardian named Harmon; a Titan so clumsy he couldn't tie a proper knot without getting his fingers caught. A never ending source of amusement. It had been so long since she had seen him. She hadn't the faintest idea what had become of him. Perhaps...perhaps she should ask Ikora sometime.

Her thoughts interrupted as he once again, steered her towards another grave:

"This is Xuan." He gestured, "She was a seamstress with mad-skills! Trust! Could work with any material," He paused with a growing smirk, "and she was the most beautiful woman in the village. Ha! Every bachelor had a mad hard-on for her!"

She cringed at his vulgarity. Leave it to him to take a humble, nearly sacred moment and turn it into something crass. Yet still, a thought whispered in her inner-ear:

Did he?

She mentally shook herself. What business was it of hers?

"But she didn't want any of 'em." He continued, "She didn't need 'em."

Eris felt a surge of respect for this unfamiliar woman, forming a picture in her mind of a striking beauty of great carriage—perhaps like Ikora, or even Queen Mora Sov. Capable, independent, and intelligent.

The man beside her sighed and she could hear another chuckle starting to rise, "She and I was always buttin' heads—clash of personalities, blah, blah." He waved his other hand for emphasis, but then, his eyes took on a warm expression—

"Still...whenever winter was on its way...she'd make me a new coat. Every year—a new coat. Free o' charge. She would never tell me why my money wasn't good enough for her!"

Eris' heart fluttered. Perhaps...she knew the reason why.

"And once," His voice softened, a memory washing ashore, "She made me an Ao Dao to wear at Tet Nguyen Dan— wrapped in brown paper, she handed it to me like it was nothin' special."

Eris knew what that was...she thought she did. A traditional garb? High collared and buttoned to the side? She thought she had seen people in the City wear them before. Traditional to Vietnam, yes?

"It was a dark mossy green color, and she had even embroidered cranes on it."

She felt his grip tighten on her; a tremble passing from him to her.

"I wore it on my weddin' day."

An utterance filled with intimacy.

"I kept it all those centuries...and I wore it when I married Orin."

She didn't know why, but this confession of his...this reveal...it made her bitter. Inexplicably so, and her heart beat faster in anger. Anger at herself for feeling such resentment towards his beautiful memories...of Orin.

Why do I stray to such places? Such emotional immaturity over a concern that I play no role in?

She played no role...

He turned to the next grave, pulling her along, and Eris' mind was a whirl of disbelief.

He knows them all! Knows where each and every person rests! After all this time...

"You remember every detail of this place," She muttered, "Don't you?"

"I remember everythin, darlin'." His tone was lighter as he acknowledged her accurate observation, "I remember everyone I've ever met. I remember everythin' about them. Their manners, their speech, their likes and dislikes."

The smile that was trying to form gave up the fight, sinking into a frown, "Their hopes, their needs..."

He trailed off, a contemplative silence, and then—

"I always remember. Which is why I always wear this..." He pointed to the bandana wrapped about his head, and Eris was puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

He looked to her, his eyes a commodity of sentiment, "It's an old custom," The corner of his lip turned up slightly, as he tapped a finger against the cloth that covered his forehead, "We wear it to mourn."

Another strike at her heart, and she understood.

How tragically beautiful!

A gentle tug, and he continued to lead the way. Toward a new grave, a new person, but—she noticed something different about this one. It did not lay so close to the others, and the stone that marked it was a bit larger.

Then The Drifter inhaled deeply, "This..."

There was a crack in his voice, a sound which startled Eris, and she turned her gaze upon him. Observing how he chewed his lip, while his eyes bore into the stone that lay before them. She said not a word, waiting with reverent patience. He could take all the time he needed, for Eris understood better than anyone how important that was.

"This is Judson." He finally spoke, "We called him The Viking—'cause of his long blonde hair and beard."

His hand shook as he raised it to smooth along the top of his own hair. A nervous gesture. An attempt at self-comfort.

"He looked like what ya'd think a Viking would look like, ya know?"

He was fidgeting now, leading into another pause as he swallowed down the emotion which tried to get the best of him.

Eris knew exactly what he was feeling; for she lived with it every single day—

Guilt.

He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he reclaimed himself, "This guy...he was the meanest, nastiest, most belligerent, no-good-son-bitch, you'd ever meet!"

That hadn't been what Eris expected, and she was taken slightly aback. He was speaking ill of the dead at their grave, and she worried for a moment that perhaps this trip into memory would lead to fouler moods.

But then—

"He was like a brother to me." Voice cracking with confession. Such sorrow lacing every word.

Oh, I see.

Strange how humans could be so peculiar in how they formed relationships. Parent to child, sibling to sibling, friend to friend. The ability to abhor someone and yet, care for them all the same. Eris swallowed, nodding in accord. Sometimes...she was afraid. Afraid that perhaps, deep inside, Ikora, Zavala, and even Asher felt that way about her.

My paranoia. My instability.

It lacked credibility, and she knew how absurd she was being. Thankfully, The Drifter drew her back.

"I couldn't save him." His voice carried on the breeze, barely a whisper, and Eris turned to face him fully; her heart dropping at the sight.

He looked worn...broken. A memory was killing him inside.

"He'd been right—" His jaw trembled, "he'd been right 'bout everythin', and none of us listened."

She thought to ask him to delineate. To explain, but she refrained.

"He was dyin'. Bleedin' real bad...I tried to use the light, ya know?" His nostrils flared, a twitch in his jaw, "But it was too late. I wasn't quick 'nough." His grip upon her wrist tightened, and Eris allowed him the liberty to express his grief.

What pain so many will never understand.

"His last words...were that he hated me."

She felt the harsh blow of it, and she thought to ask him why, to ask for context and clarity—but he steered her away once more. Walking just a little faster, with a little more force in his step, as he led her to a circle of graves that sat further away from the others, and immediately, Eris knew these ones were special.

He stopped, she at one side, Chim-Ung hovering at his other. Larger headstones lay before them, and there was a makeshift fence of smaller ones surrounding the area; encasing them in a plot all their own. There was something in the air, and her curiosity and unease increased when she watched Chim-Ung float out to them. Watching as he came to hover before every stone, his little shell dipping for a moment before moving to the next. It seemed...it seemed as though...the little Ghost was bowing.

"This is my family."

Her heart stopped. It was a whisper barely heard, but Eris caught it.

She turned to face him, "Your what?"

He didn't look at her, his face solemn and eyes fixed forward, watching as Chim-Ung paid his respects.

"The ones who lay here," His voice hoarse and small, "are my family."

He couldn't mean literally. There's no possible way he meant they were true blood relations. Then again, Eris hadn't a clue how old the man actually was, and whether or not he had stumbled upon long-lost relatives after his resurrection. He couldn't mean...children either; Risen were incapable of that. They were all reborn sterile.

She watched as he licked his lips, took a deep breath and granted her the knowledge she craved:

"When I was rezzed the first time, I was...lost."

A pause. A gathering of thoughts and emotions.

"I became feral...wanderin' through the wilds...and starvin' somethin' awful!"

His eyes turned to regard her, "Have you ever starved to death?"

The despondency in his tone, the fatigue in his eyes—she knew it wasn't meant to be rhetorical.

She swallowed, and shook her head, "No. I can't say I have."

"Hm." He nodded, looking back towards the family plot, "I have. Over, and over...and over again."

He spoke with such bitterness, and she felt such compassion for him in that moment. Eris had died many times, but always in battle; always at the hands of an enemy. Blade or bullet. She had never died the way he described, and she cringed at the thought of how slow and painful it must have been.

Pure and absolute agony.

He was much stronger than she had realized.

She was drawn back as a small smile lifted his expression, "But then, we found Eaton. They took me in...saved me."

He released her wrist and stepped forward, coming to stand beside the largest headstone among the arrangement. Then, with a gesture so gentle and gracious, The Drifter laid his hand upon it. A moment passed, leaving both Cim-Ung and Eris to look on in reverent silence.

"This is Huong." Another whisper, "When they found me...on the brink of another death...they brought me to her. She was a doctor."

There was a shudder in his countenance, taking a moment to compose himself before continuing,

"She nursed me back to health. Taught me to walk again...she fed me...gave me a bed to sleep in. She took the time to talk to me, to teach me how to read. She taught me English. She made me feel welcomed."

Eris swallowed the lump forming in her throat. There was such beauty in how he spoke about this woman—such love.

"She became my mother."

His voice just changed!

It was subtle, but there was no mistaking it—her sensitive ears had caught the transition, and once again, she knew without a doubt, he had switched characters right before her eyes.

I'm speaking to Germaine, aren't I?

The name the ancient ones had spoken to her. The name that angered him so. She now understood what he had meant—there was no one left to remember that name, and as he had said, Germaine had died with them.

Not truly though. He's still in there—for he speaks to me now. Isn't that right?

From the corner of her eye, she could see Chim-Ung float towards them, coming to hover before the grave that lay beside Huong's. Its red-eye gazing down with such melancholy—it was a gesture so unbearably human. The man turned to join him, crouching low with elbows resting upon his knees. He said not a word. He didn't have to, for Eris could see—by the sorrow of both Germaine and his Ghost...that this grave was the most important one of all.

Carefully, ever so respectfully, Eris moved to join them. Coming to stand beside the kneeling man...she was a stranger looking down upon a hallowed moment. He was with his family again...the ones whom he had loved so dearly.

And who loved him in return.

He wore an expression of both joy and sorrow. It clenched at her, refusing to let go. She wanted to know...to know all about the one who lay to rest at their feet.

"This is Yu. Huong's granddaughter. Her daddy was Huong's youngest son." She caught the twitch in his jaw, the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he steeled himself to continue, "She was only ten years old."

Oh no. Please, don't.

Eris swallowed her own distress, sickened by what he had provided her. A horrible casualty in an era of petty squabbles. How could the Gods allow for such barbary? Such cruelty?

"Children always suffer most in war." Saint had spoken to her once, "They are true victims. Caught in adult things—things they should not be part of."

She had felt the pain and sorrow in the Titan's voice, and knew he spoke the truth. She had understood the Exo much better in that moment, why he immersed himself in charity—especially where children were concerned.

Her hands trembled at her sides as she stared down at the grave of a child; beneath the soil, innocent and precious.

"I was there when she was born." Germaine went on, "She was screamin' somethin' fierce!" He laughed, "I don't blame her! Bein' born must be rather traumatizin'!"

Eris couldn't help herself, and released a chuckle of her own.

"But when they handed her to me..." He slowly raised his hands, miming the gesture of holding an infant, "She stopped cryin'. Big brown eyes lookin' up at me, and I remember thinkin'—Ah! This one's gonna be trouble!" He laughed again, but it was heavy with a substance not of humor.

There was something so beautiful in this moment. Something Eris couldn't easily identify, but found herself longing for. Bittersweet.

He continued, "She called me Uncle. I babysat her all the time—she was my little henchman. I'd tell her stories and she'd make me lil' picture books of 'em! Ha!" He slapped his knees, "That girl had talent! She'd come to me with these drawin's she bound together, showin' one of my stories, and she would demand my Honest Opinion!"

He burst into laughter, and Eris felt such genuine bliss at his words. Her own smile growing.

"She wanted to be an artist!" His laughter faded to weak chuckles, his eyes glazing over in bittersweet memory, "And believe me...she would've been a great one."

The promise of something wonderful. A world denied something extraordinary. And for what? Why?

Her chain of thought was severed.

"She died in my arms..." His voice choked, practically squeaking, and she watched as his trembling hands clutched the fabric at his thighs. Rage and grief boiling over into a mess around him. She felt it, could practically taste it.

Say that's not true...tell me a lie instead!

"I watched her spirit leave her little body," He continued, his breath becoming heavy, "She said to me...I can't feel anything."

Don't tell me this!

He was gripping at his clothes—knuckles white, he was going to tear them if he didn't relent.

"Do you..." His voice trembled, a faint stutter forming, "Do...do...you...realize how strange it all is? Th-that I held her when she was born, and then I held her when she died?"

He was frightening her...he was frightening the hell out of her! This wasn't the man she knew—this nervous wreck was not the man she knew! And she practically stared in horror as his body shook.

Dammit! What do I do?! What do I say?!

She hadn't expected this, hadn't expected him to lose his composure. Time after time, he had been the calm in the eye of the storm to her twisting madness. He had been the one grounded in reality, while she had fallen to the torture of memories. But now...he was the one needing a stable hand. But, she worried—would it be the blind leading the blind?

Panic was rising in her, and she too began to shake, breath shuddering as she looked to Chim-Ung. Surely the Ghost would know what to do, yes?! But the Ghost seemed equally as troubled. Eris wasn't surprised. But this was grim. Very grim, and when his breath became erratic enough that she feared he was going to black out, she accepted the fact that she would have to take the initiative.

What can I do?! I'm broken beyond repair! How can I possibly help him?!

She clutched at her arms, her own body trembling in response to his own; desperately seeking an escape.

Counting fingers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5— NO!

Analyzing texture: The linen of her tunic...the leather of her gloves—NO!

It wasn't working, nothing was working, and she watched as Germaine brought his hands up, cupping them about his mouth to help steady his breath; a way to combat hyperventilation.

Do something!

A panic threatened to spill from her as well.

What—WHAT DO I DO?!

And then it came to her—an answer—a memory—

Once, in the days that followed her recovery from comatose, she had been sitting with Asher Mir in the Tower's arboretum. She had been seeking companionship...an escape from the dark thoughts and wretched feelings which had been tormenting her. Alas, her return from the Hellmouth hadn't been met with compassion or understanding. Instead, she had spent more time awkwardly shuffling about under the critical and suspicious gazes of everyone.

Ikora had been too emotional, Zavala had been too...mistrusting, and as for everyone else—well, there was good reason she had cut-them all from her life. But Asher...Asher was different.

During that time, as she unloaded her baggage upon him, she had delved too deep. Catching herself before she said anything too incriminating or damaging. But in that desperation for control, she had spiraled into chaos. Body shaking, teeth chattering, breath shallow and choking—she had fallen into a fit of despair. She couldn't stop, couldn't think, she had no idea what to do! When all of a sudden—Asher reached out and grabbed her ear. Absurd sounding, yes. The Warlock had reached out, pushing aside the scarf she had wrapped about her head, and took the top of her ear between his forefinger and thumb. He had simply held it before applying pressure...then all at once, in that strange, inexplicable moment...she fell calm. In control once again.

It had been so strange! But it had worked, and afterwards, Eris didn't feel so awful.

Caught up in the moment, worried at his internal torment...it was all Eris could think to do. So, she came to kneel beside him, and without warning, reached out and took the top of his ear between her forefinger and thumb; pressing lightly against the cartilage. All at once, he tensed beneath her touch, his entire form becoming rigid, but Eris knew there was no way in hell he was more startled than she was at her own actions.

What the hell am I doing?

Her heart pounding behind her ribs, she held perfectly still; awaiting a reaction other than shock. Truly though, he had fallen quiet and still—did that mean, it actually worked?

How does this work exactly?

A moment of silence. A stillness between them both It was broken when Germaine finally turned his head to regard her, eyes filled with confusion and—

Oh...damn it.

"Did you just grab my ear?!" He practically shrieked, before bursting into gleeful laughter; as though it were the most amusing thing in the world.

She didn't move, didn't answer. Just frowned back into his face, which was aglow with mirth at her actions; it made Eris feel utterly idiotic. So much for trying to help...Perhaps she could save a little face.

"I just need you to calm down." She let out an exasperated sigh.

But that made him laugh harder, "By grabbin' my ear?!"

He snorted and giggled, and Eris had enough. She pinched her fingers tighter and gave his ear a harsh twist, causing his laughs to morph into yelps of pain.

"Ow! Jesus!"

She was angry now. He had turned her actions of aide into a joke at her expense, and she was tired of the constant humiliation she seemed to be dealt whenever she shared his company.

Why am I always losing my dignity when he is near?

She just wanted to walk away. Besides, she did not belong here. This was his village, his people, his time to spend with them in memory. She'd go back to the sparrow and wait for him to conclude his annual visit.

"I'll leave you to continue your mourning," She informed him, "Come find me when it's time to depart."

She began to release him, but then—his own hand came to quickly grasp hers; keeping it upon his ear. Eris startled, confusion replacing her anger and embarrassment as he looked her in the eye; no longer hysterical with laughter. No, now he watched her with a gentle smile, and eyes which held such gratitude that Eris no longer knew what to think.

What is he doing now?

"I get whatcha were tryin' to do, Moondust." His voice was softer, "That's an old acupuncture trick. I get it."

Honestly, she hadn't known that. Asher hadn't explained his actions, and Eris hadn't thought to ask.

"Thank you." He went on, "I appreciate it. Hand to my heart, I do."

There was such a sincerity about him, that all the irritation that had stacked inside her was washed away with it, and her heart felt lighter in that moment as he applied his own pressure onto her fingers; encouraging her to continue. She didn't speak. She couldn't speak. Every nerve in her body was on end, as she looked upon this man who knelt beside her, watching as he closed his eyes and tilted his head to lean into her touch. Content, relaxed. He was absorbing whatever it was she had to offer, and Eris could only remain still and allow him to take.

Oh, what an ache was growing inside of her at the sight of him. Of the softness he revealed in this moment, of the love he clearly still felt for these people.

"He had heart full of love."

Saint-14 had said—

"But now...his heart is broken."

Broken and lonely. Just like her.

"You're the only person I've ever brought here." His eyes remained closed as he whispered.

Eris' heart leapt into her throat, unsure what he had meant, but considering his words.

"What do you mean?" Her own voice whispered in return, for to speak any louder would be irreverent.

There was a pause, and she watched him breathe deeply before explaining:

"I always visit alone. I've never brought anyone here with me—not even Orin."

At that, Eris faltered, more confused than before at this confession. He had not shared this cherished tradition with his own wife. It made little sense.

"Why not?"

"Because," He sighed, and she watched him swallow down whatever was threatening to rise, "Things were just so, perfect with Orin. I was happy. Happier than I'd ever been!"

Oh, I see.

Eris understood now. It made all the sense in the world, and Germaine confirmed:

"If I brought her here...it would be so sad. And I didn't wanna make her sad. It would...it would ruin everythin'."

That was foolish. She couldn't help but feel that he hadn't given the Titan enough credit. Orin would have understood, Orin would have been there for him. Like Eris was trying to do now. But it made her shake to the core, for this realization...for this circumstance.

She was here. That truth, that reality. It was stirring emotions within her. And then Eris Morn did something—something she had never done before in any of the three lives she had led: she allowed instinct to take the helm. She didn't think about the action, she just...acted. Releasing his ear to stretch her fingers, and slowly, ever so gently, allowed her hand to rest upon his cheek. Holding is face in a gesture so tender, she hadn't known she was capable of it. Worry flashing by, wondering at what she may have put in motion, and made all the more concerning when Germaine's hand pressed against her own, encouraging her to hold him; and he pressed his face even deeper into her palm.

Such peace.

And she closed her eyes as well.

A gentle breeze rolled down from the cliffs, and carried with it the sound of distant buzzing and hums. Faint, but Eris still detected it, and she knew that sound. A Chirp! also cut through her speculation, and her eyes flew open, to see Chim-Ung looking towards the canyon with intense scrutiny; like an animal sensing a larger predator in the area. There was no mistaking that noise.

"Pikes." She looked to Germaine, who released a sigh of pure exasperation in response.

"Yup." He opened his own eyes, an expression of dull displeasure upon his face, "Raiders have taken over the area."

He didn't seem worried in the least, "Goddamn, I was hopin' for a little more time."

Ah...The Drifter has returned.

That sloppy way of speaking, the growl in this throat. Germaine had left her behind, but it wasn't any surprise to her. The man was constantly in survival mode. But back to the matter at hand— He had anticipated a potential attack? In fact, he outright expected it? The man was just inanely reckless.

"Welp—" He groaned, releasing her hand as he rose to his feet, "Let's skiddaddle."

He held out his hands, helping her to her feet before quickly treading through the grass; making their way back to the sparrow.

Time was of the essence, and neither wasted any time climbing on. Eris placing her hands upon The Drifter's shoulders to steady herself, as she swung her leg behind the stock of his rifle once more. Her priggish attitude no longer mattered in this moment, it was becoming a life and death scenario, for those pikes were growing ever closer.

They must be throwing the throttles.

She was genuinely surprised at their potential speed, and as their own sparrow roared to life, Chim-Ung quickly dove into The Drifter's pocket. The little lump settling at his hip, and upon Eris' leg as the man's coat fell upon her lap once more.

"Hold on."

Was her only warning before they shot forward, and she squeezed his shoulders as he whipped the bike around to face the canyon; in the direction from whence they came.

But that meant—

"Wait! Why are you heading towards them?!"

"Fastest route!" He winked over his shoulder, brash and mad-capped.

He can't be serious!

It was idiotic! Tactless! But before she could voice an opinion on the matter, he threw the throttle, sending them flying up the trail and towards the ravine.

FOOL!

She couldn't help it. She gripped him a little tighter and leaned forward, her chin hovering above his shoulder as she sought to see from his perspective. The curtain of rocks was approaching rapidly, but based on what she heard, so were the pike riders.

We're going to slam right through them—or possibly into them!

Did he forget she had no Ghost?

The buzzing grew louder, and then, she could see them—there were four, and they were flying right towards them at an alarming rate.

Her heart pounding, adrenaline rising—

They're forty meters...thirty meters...twenty...

They were within range of being shot down, and yet...the raiders didn't initiate fire. The speed The Drifter maintained and the sudden climb from the valley to the canyon must have thrown them for a loop. They hadn't expected it.

Too fast! Too close!

"Fifteen meters!" She shouted, a reactionary exclamation born from the disbelief that they were about to slam headfirst into the gang.

"Right!"

"What?!" Was he telling her she was right about her observation, or—

"RIGHT!" He shouted again, and thankfully, her instincts were quick.

Right—to the right!

Without hesitation, she wrapped one arm tightly about The Drifter's waist, as her other grabbed the leather of the holster across his shoulder; holding on with a vice grip as they both threw themselves to the right. Their combined weight rolled the sparrow sideways, causing them to sail past the pikes; avoiding collision. A blur of color as they buzzed by, followed by a Screech! and a horrendous Crunch!; confirming one of the riders had panicked, lost control and wiped out to his death.

One down, but clearly, the other three were quick to recover, and Eris heard them whip about to give chase. She felt The Drifter begin to throw his weight once more, and she followed, pressing them back into an upright position as they continued onward.

"Woo!" He hollered, "That was close!"

She gritted her teeth, she knew exactly what he had just done. He had been playing chicken with them, and she was displeased with his recklessness; especially when he was involving her!

"Do not resort to brashness!" She informed him, the tactician within her making itself known, "And they're gaining on us!"

They ducked and weaved around the fallen trees and boulders once more, The Drifter navigating with a speed and focus that was nearly mesmerizing. She had only ever seen such skill among other Hunters, and couldn't stop herself from silently granting him an iota of admiration. But then suddenly—

A loud Crack! and a blast came sailing past their heads, exploding into the rocks before them. The raiders had finally initiated a fire attack.

The Drifter skirted to the left, dodging the debris that flew past. Then another blast barely missed their knees, striking a boulder at a downwards angle, and forcing him to pull the sparrow up. He locked his feet into the stirrups, and lifted himself from the saddle, as Eris followed suit; locking her knees into the chassis to lift her tailbone. Up and over a cluster of stone and a massive fallen log, the sparrow dropped back down to a proper level, and the two of them returned to their seats; avoiding shattered spines.

The shooting ceased, as the riders navigated around the cluster, trying to maneuver with the same finesse as The Drifter. She heard a Crack! and deduced that one of them hadn't been quite so skilled. They must have struck their surroundings, because a Screech! followed by a whirling echoed through the canyon, and suddenly—the sound of crunching metal drowned out all other sounds around them, as the pike spiraled out of control. Eris didn't need to turn around to confirm it, she could visualize what was happening.

The pike was ricocheting off the canyon walls, and the rider was most certainly deceased.

That left two, and they were not giving up the chase.

"Hey, Bladedancer!" The Drifter called back to her, "Can ya sling?!"

She froze, taking a second to process what he meant, and thankfully, she was not slow of learning. Eris knew what he meant, and the challenge in his tone was not lost on her. Despite the perilous situation they were caught-up in, he still had the audacity to tease her. A surge of pride was rising in Eris, a desire to prove her prowess and skill to this former Pilgrim Guardsman.

He wants a demonstration? So be it!

She began to reach for the rifle at her leg, prepared to unsnap the straps that held it in place, until a thought occurred—a brassy one beating against her brain—

I have a much better idea...

She'd show an old dog a new trick.

Her hand at his waist was brushing against the hand-cannon tucked into the obi-belt at his abdomen, and Eris found she simply couldn't resist. Her hand closed around it, pulling it swiftly from its home, and she could feel The Drifter stiffen as she took his piece in hand, but he said nothing; allowing her to take it for the strike.

She began to turn back, raising her arm for the counterattack, when she flinched—

Holy shit!

It was heavy as hell! Even without her light, Eris was a strong woman, but her arm shook under the weight of the gun, and with this new element added to the formula, she quickly calculated how badly her aim would be compromised.

Not good! I need more stability!

It was a six-shot, and with a quick glance over, she determined it was a magnum. A .357 caliber— but, the barrel diameter and length was off. It was longer than standard—it exceeded eight and three-eighths.

Eight and two-fifths?

Though the increase in length was minute, it would create better velocity. This was purely customized and if she were to guess, it was specific to him. A gun balanced for his grip, his arm, his center of gravity. It was brilliant; something only he could truly control. But now, it was in her hand, and she had to wield it with as much dominance as he; less they fall to the enemies behind them.

"Face front!" The Drifter issued a command, and though she was once again puzzled at his words, she was a seasoned enough veteran to know when to trust her comrades on the battlefield.

She did as she was told, just in time to grab onto him tightly as he yanked the handles hard, flipping their ride one hundred and eighty degrees to face their pursuers straight on. He threw a switch near the throttle, and she felt the sparrow lurch before suddenly deaccelerating; coming to practically hover in place. He had reversed the thrust, and it was all she needed to take the shot.

He leaned forward, and she knew exactly what he was doing. Giving her the means to lay her arm upon the flat of his shoulder to use it for stability. Gun aimed, while her other hand came to rest upon the hammer. The pikes came hurdling towards them, and Eris calculated they were three and half meters apart, keeping close to one another and perfectly paced.

No hesitation. She aimed towards the one on the right, and with a speed worthy of her class, she pressed the hammer and squeezed the trigger; perfect synchronization.

Two rounds was all she needed. One blasting into the skull of the rider on the right, while the other penetrated between the eyes of the one on the left. Their bodies both jerked back before slumping forward, their dead weights causing the steering of their pikes to veer sideways and into each other. A sickening Crunch, a small combustion, followed by flames and the two pikes spiraled out of control; smashing into the rocks around them.

Crisis averted.

"Haaaa! Damn, girl!" The Drifter burst out laughing, "That was fierce! Drifter like!"

There was a saucy tone in his voice as he spoke those last words, and Eris fought back a sneer. She had just executed a great demonstration of skill, and though she was certain The Drifter was indeed sincere in his compliment, she didn't appreciate how lurid he made it sound.

A rustle at her knee, and she glanced down to see Chim-Ung shift beneath the fabric of The Drifter's coat, poking the top of his little shell out so he could peek at her handy work. Still tucked away in his pocket sanctuary, his eye shifted her way, and Eris could swear there was a glint of esteem in his gaze.

"Interesting piece you carry." Eris indicated the sidearm in her hand, spinning it about her finger to land the barrel in her palm, enacting proper etiquette by handing it back to him stock first. He took it with a chuckle, tucking it into the front of his belt again.

"Nothin' beats Dark Age smithin'. Finest work in the universe! Trust!"

"Hmm," She nodded, something teasing rising in her own tone, "I take it you are boasting of your own skill-set in that statement, Rat?"

He laughed harder, "I'm a dyin' breed, my dear! Only I make 'em like they used'ta!"

Eris believed him. Tex Mechanica had become the industry standard for gun smithing. Nearly every Guardian in the universe—or mercenary for that matter—carried one of their makes. She herself possessed several models, and though they had served her well, she had to admit, The Drifter carried a work of art that eclipsed anything she had seen from the commercialized company. In fact, she found herself itching to hold the magnum once more; maybe ask his permission for a target session...

Her gaze fell back to the sidearm, "It is a beautiful piece."

She offered him praise, but instantly wished she could redact it when he looked back to her with the most smug expression she had ever seen.

"Why—thanks, darlin'!" Then he cocked a brow, "Ya we're referrin' to the gun, right?" He gestured downwards with his chin, indicating the area where he stored it was in a rather...awkward position; causing something else to be in her direct eyeline.

Heat rose to her face, and she fought the reflexive urge to strike him.

"You debauched bastard!"

He burst into hysterics as she struggled to find another insult to do him justice.

"Of all the disgusting, perverted—"

But she cut her own sentence off. A barely audible Gasp! escaping her lips as The Drifter whipped the sparrow around and threw the throttle into drive once more. The sudden lurch causing her to startle, and she grabbed onto his shoulders once again for stability. Her heart descending from her throat to its proper home, Eris felt her indignity fading into simple annoyance.

He was such a thorn in her side. A complete nuisance! And yet, she forgave him every single time.

Why?! Why do I tolerate him?!

She had beaten better men than him for less. In fact, the late Hunter Vanguard had felt her wrath on more than one occasion, when he had been foolish enough to make off-colored jokes at her expense. Cayde-6 had learned the hard way that she was not a woman who tolerated sophomoric humor.

They had butted heads ever since.

But that's all ended now.

Her mood shifting at that reality. A painful truth. Despite what everyone had thought...what many had seen and overheard...she had never hated Cayde. No...in fact, he had been that older brother who pushed his younger sister to madness. Now—it had become so quiet in the Tower.

Breaking free from the ravine, The Drifter navigated them into the field of tall grass once more, and without the shadows of rock looming over them, Eris could see the sky above beginning to fall. The sun was setting, and her body seemed to understand this, for she felt fatigue descending upon her. The day had ended. Time to go home.

Home...

She swallowed down something sour. How she wished—

No! Stop! Do not wish!

Her mind too must be falling to exhaustion, for she knew better than to even think such a thing. Her attention shifted to the bag at her hip...always at her hip—focusing, listening.

Silence. It had not spoken this entire day.

Good.

In the distance, she could see the silhouette of her ship, still docked at the bank of the river, but whether it had truly survived remained to be seen.

Trust. Trust that he had been right.

True. Why worry and be so fretful? What had happened to the days of reckless abandon and walking on fire?

Buried long ago in a pit far, far away.

The temperature had dropped once again, and the breeze that whipped past them sent a brief chill through her, causing her to lean forward, trying to slide her legs a little deeper beneath The Drifter's coat. She could feel his heat...that fire inside of him that burned like a bonfire.

He's made of magic.

Her thoughts trailing to a strange place, as she contemplated once more the question of his identity—

He performed miracles. He called storms and healed the land.

Yes. Eris was certain she had the answer—but what difference did any of it make?

Warlock.

None whatsoever.

She had lost herself deeply enough that she hadn't noticed their return, until The Drifter cut the engine.

"Well," He cleared his throat, "Looks like it still stands, sistah! Hallelujah!"

She blinked, eyes following his line of vision towards her ship, confirming that he was indeed correct; there wasn't a mark upon it.

"Hm." She nodded her agreement, "Well, Rat...it's been another interesting excursion."

"Ain't it been, though?!" He unleashed a bark of laughter, grinning over his shoulder at her.

She curled her lip, "I was being ironic."

"So was I!"

She nearly snorted out loud at the quick rebuttal, but truth be told, she was not at all resentful of how the day unfolded. In fact, she was rather flattered he had wished to share such a private and sacred tradition with her. Alas, the problem that seemed to plague her whenever they parted ways was rearing its ugly head once again; she wasn't sure what to say.

Perhaps, I shouldn't say another word.

No, maybe just a "thank you" would suffice...

He was silent, and she figured he was waiting for her to climb down so he could depart.

Just say thank you and leave.

It had been an emotional day for them both. Too much time spent in the past, that Eris felt it was best not to allow it any further hold upon them. But as her feet made contact with the ground, and she opened her mouth to speak, he spoke first—

"Ya used to wear your hair long."

She froze.

What did he just say?

The comment had been so offhandedly tossed her way, that she questioned whether she had heard him correctly. Slowly, she turned her gaze upon him, but he didn't look at her in return. His eyes were focused on the river flowing by.

"You had long jet-black hair that fell all the way down your back, and sometimes, you'd wear it in a French braid."

That's right. I did!

Her heart began to race, and her hands that held the seat were trembling; the fabric of her gloves chafing against the leather as her fingers curled.

What is he doing? What is he talking about?

She wanted to voice her concerns, but nothing was coming forth. Confusion, unease...

"You had hazel eyes."

And that statement struck her like a bullet to the chest.

"And when the light hit 'em just right," He went on, "they looked green—like an olive. They were deep-set with long lashes and you would line 'em with dark eyeshadow."

She was caught in a stupor as she watched him. Watched as a smile spread across his face. He laughed, "You had an edgy style to ya! Sometimes you'd paint your lips to match your eyes...and it suited ya perfectly."

She could no longer breathe, he was dredging up memories of the Eris Morn who had lived in the Tower once upon a time, and it appeared he wasn't finished—

"Ya'd do this...thing with your hands when you were talkin'." He lifted his own to demonstrate, flicking his wrists, "You'd roll your fingers like this—especially when ya got worked up about somethin'."

She remembered how she would talk with her hands. Back then, she had been so lively and animated, that people would actually flinch away; afraid she might strike them by accident.

How does he remember all this?!

Something was twisting inside her now, and she clutched the seat a little tighter.

"—and when ya did get excited, you'd just..." He searched for the right word, shrugging his shoulders, "light up!"

There was such fondness in his voice when he said it. Humor lacing his words...what beautiful memories he was conjuring, and Eris was falling under the spell of it.

Summer days when it was too hot to care about anything. Sitting upon the rooftops with her friends, scantily clad to combat the heat, and talking about the inconsequential—of music and books—only to realize in old age how much they actually mattered.

"When ya laughed, you'd bring your hand up and cover your mouth with your sleeve."

I did...I always did that.

She watched as he shook his head, a furrow in his brow, "I never understood why ya did that, 'cause ya had a very pretty smile." There was clear confusion in his tone.

Because I disliked my smile...my lips are too full and my bottom teeth are crooked. I was embarrassed.

There was something sentimental about how he spoke. He wasn't reciting these things to her— No, he was caught up in his own memories as well, and it was frightening how he could recall so much detail about her! They had not been close. She had only known of him because of his constant proximity to Orin, and even then...she could never remember his name.

He had been unimportant. A Pilgrim Guardsman of no merit. No...he was not Saint-14, or Orin The Sunbreaker, or the mighty Jashen Braier. He was just...a nobody.

Thin, average, and dressed in the plainest clothes. Long dark hair hanging in his face and down his shoulders. He bore no banner, wore no armor, and could not hold a candle to the men and women of polished might he stood beside.

How unusual he had been. He had stood out, and yet blended in at the same time. Eris had paid him no mind. He was just a hanger-on to Orin, another fan vying for the beautiful Titan's attention; a man seeking her approval and possible affection. Just like all the others who over-stayed their welcome in her presence.

But oh, how wrong Eris had been! Lord help her, she had been so terribly wrong! He hadn't been pursuing Orin...he had already won and claimed that prize.

Of course he was always around. Orin was his wife. But why...does he know so much about me?

"Ya were always hummin' under your breath," He began again, "and ya used to carry 'round this lil' toy...like on a key chain. It was a blue cat with a yellow scarf."

Eris fought down the gasp that nearly escaped her.

Pepito?! No..no he couldn't possibly...he remembered that?!

Pepito. Her little good luck charm. She had carried him everywhere, but had lost him long ago. She had loved that little thing, and her heart had broken when she discovered he had come loose from his chain. She had searched—so had Ikora, and the others of her fireteam, even the Ghosts! But she never saw Pepito again.

She hadn't thought about her little plastic companion in so long, she had nearly forgotten about him. But The Drifter...he had caused her to remember. How could she have lost herself so badly that she forgot Pepito?

"Ya were different..." A smile curled his lips, "...unique. There was no one else like ya, Moondust."

A finality in his tone. He had finished his monologue, and Eris was rendered speechless. What could she say? What could possibly be said that would hold a torch to what he had just revealed?

And finally, he turned to look at her, glancing over his shoulder with a smile, "See? I really do remember everythin'."

It was astounding.

He had noticed me...but I hadn't noticed him.

Her heart was heavy and yet, light at the same time. Like a wave upon the sand, pushing and pulling emotions that she wasn't quick enough to sort. She should say something— but what?

He spared her by speaking once more, "Thank you for comin' with me today."

She should be thanking him, and now, she finally knew what to say:

"It was an honor, " Her voice was lower than she intended, but it was thick with affectivity, "Thank you for inviting me."

The world around them was falling into twilight, and in the sky peppered with the first ambitious stars, Eris could see Luna trying to push through Sol's dying glow. Her home. Her prison. It was time to go.

But...oh, how she wished she could find a reason—

"Good night." She bowed her head to him, and he returned the gesture.

"Safe trip, hun."

A little Chirp! from his pocket, and she glanced down to see Chim-Ung gazing up at her, bidding her farewell in his own way.

"Good night, little one." She bowed her head once more, offering the Ghost the honor and respect he had certainly not experienced in ages.

And with that, she began her stroll towards her ship, that had indeed, remained untouched.

I'm ending this too abruptly...should I have said more?

Heaven's mercy, she was falling into emotional turmoil. Her heart and her mind at odds with each other, and she began to worry at what he could be thinking.

"Ya know—" The Drifter called out, silencing her thoughts immediately, "This is date number two!"

Eris nearly jumped, pausing in her trek to round on him with wide eyes and elevated ire.

"What did you say?" She had heard him, it was simply an exclamation at his gall.

Oh no...not this again!

He chuckled, cocky smirk back in place, "That was our second date! And I gotta say, Moondust..." He leaned forward and winked, "Ya really know how'da show a boy a good time!"

She was flabbergasted. Searching her mind for an effective rebuttal, a way to reclaim her dignity, but before anything effective emerged, The Drifter flipped the sparrow back to life and with one final cheeky grin, sped off; disappearing into the falling night.

The hum of the engine fading like the light above, until she heard it no more. He was gone, and she was left alone to her thoughts.

That blackguard!

Once again, he had set her up, and she had walked right into it. But still...she couldn't help the smile that creeped across her lips, and the chuckle that lifted from her chest, for in this moment, she had come to a realization about herself. She wasn't miffed at all. In fact, she was rather amused. But then—

Wait...WAIT!

An epiphany...an enlightenment. Those questions she had asked herself at the beginning of their journey, how she had scrutinized his actions and the lack of logic they seemed to contain— she now had the answer. He had wanted to spend time with her. And not just time spent within the confines of his ship, seated for a meal and a game of cards. No, he had taken her for a ride in the countryside. Just the two of them. Just like he had said—a second date. She chewed her lip. Something warm behind her eyes.

Oh, how far have we come? How far have I?

And as she stood beneath the purple sky, those eyes of hers not bothered by the dark, she thought back to what had been brewing inside of her. Of how she wished she could find a reason—an excuse...not to go home to Luna.

But to go home with him.

---

A/N:

In Lore: The Drifter came to live in the hidden village of Eaton before his time in the Pilgrim Guard, where he found work as a farmer. He pretended to be a normal mortal, and was warmly welcomed by the people. He became highly respected and was even accepted as a member of their council. He did indeed cause the village to prosper by performing "miracles" (summoning storms during draughts, healing the soil, and he even summoned animals for food). This is a very strong indication that The Drifter was originally a Warlock, as he saved the village with "magic". He allowed others to take the credit for the prosperity, and never revealed the truth. When his Ghost pointed out that it "wasn't fair" and that they should know that he was their savior and thank him for it, The Drifter responded: "I don't need a thank you. I don't want anyone ever thinking that they owe me anything."

Personally, this is why The Drifter is my favorite character. Despite how he comes across, his nature is a man of great humility with a kind and loving heart. Demeanor and Nature are two very different things.

Another Lore: Sadly, The Drifter's Ghost is in fact responsible for the destruction of Eaton. While scouting the area for a herd of antelope to hunt, Chim-Ung got bored and careless. He flew too low and was spotted by The Red Man's gang (The Red Man was the Warlord of that region). When they saw Chim-Ung, they knew there was another Risen in the area, and they found Eaton. Everyone was killed, including Germaine. When Chim-Ung rezzed him, he admitted that he screwed-up. The Drifter was so furious he refused to accept the Ghost's apology, and swore he'd never forgive him. This is why he and his Ghost don't get along, and why he's so verbally abusive towards him. He's still punishing the little light for his stupid mistake.

The Drifter also dug a grave for every single person in Eaton. He did it himself with just a shovel and refused to use his light to speed the process.

Judson was indeed Germaine's best frienemy in Eaton, and when he took on the persona of The Drifter, he mimicked Judson's speech and mannerisms to create the character we deal with on a daily basis in the game.

Germaine was indeed Yu's babysitter, who called him "Uncle" as is common in many Asian cultures. He tried to carry her out of the village to safety, but it was too late. She died in his arms, and when Chim-Ung came to find him, he found Germaine dead clutching Yu's body.

Easter Egg: In Vietnam when a loved one dies, the men will wear bandanas that are wrapped in a specific manner about their heads in a gesture of bereavement. The bandana The Drifter wears is in the exact funerary style worn to grieve. Think about that next time you interact with him in the game. He is forever in mourning.