Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny or any part of the franchise; all rights and ownership belong to Bungie.

A/N: Originally, I posted this story on my Ao3 account (ProphetessMinty) as a one-shot. However, this has completely changed and taken on a life of its own. It will follow the game's canon, pulling from parts of the lore, while also remaining openminded toward deviation. Don't expect this to be incredibly accurate as this IS a fanfiction after all. I'm on this ride mainly to have fun and explore several characters along the way.

Eris. The Guardian (my OC). Drifter.

Hopefully you'll join me on this fun adventure and read about the "Season of Arrivals" from a uniquely different perspective.

Enjoy!

~ProphetessMinty

Chapter 1

Under the harsh fluorescent light, a woman with raven hair stood, shielding her eyes with a pale hand and a scornful squint. It was an hour before dawn and rest had not come peacefully to her in the night. Sleep was a fickle thing, as whimsical as the roll of fog in the wind, and hardly obtainable. Swiping a hand over the bathroom mirror, the cool moisture squeaked in protest as it beaded down the glass in rivulets.

Staring into the freshly swiped mirror, a trio of green eyes, stared back at her. They were a bright and sickly green that reminded her frequently of the glowing neon signs in the Bazaar district. These fleshly organs were not her own. They are stolen trophies, plucked in pits of miasmic, dark shadows, that served as a constant reminder of her gumption—perhaps—her will to live. They are as foreign to her as she is to the world around her.

A pale hand raked through her raven locks with a tight yank as they were freshly wet and warm from a shower. With her other hand, her fingers lightly touched the skin rimming her eye sockets, the feeling rough and inhuman. The skin around her eyes had long turned pallor, grey even, according to opinions not her own. From the common whispers of the outside world on the subject of her complexion, it appeared parched and leathery like Hive epidermis. In short, she was a blight, an affront, to society.

In her days as a Risen Huntress, where the fount of Light swelled within her spirit, she had human attributes like two eyes. The color of which she cannot remember, even now. Try as she might, their unique identity was erased from her mind and replaced with a trio of Hive repugnance. Were they green like the deepest jade, precious and honored? Were they glistening like fresh amber resin dripping from a tree? Were they as icy blue as the arctic sea? Perhaps they were a special hazel, the colors closely resembling the pallet of a healthy mountainous forest?

Alas, she did not know.

"There is no use in longing for what was, Eris," she chastised herself with a whisper.

Exiting the bathroom in a brisk walk to the bedroom, she quickly snatched her thick robes from the mattress. The smells of wild lavender intermingled with frankincense, danced about the room's atmosphere toting pleasantries she could not fathom. For a small moment, the raven-haired woman stopped what she was doing. With a small waggling of her fingers, Eris plucked a gauzy, amethyst bag of potpourri from the folds of her garments and regarded it with curious scrutiny.

"Peace is fleeting," she thought to herself, but she could not deny the appreciation she held for the freshly harvested herb and spice. They had come straight from Ikora's private garden reserves, a place the Warlock Vanguard let only her closest visit. This bag, however, was placed here by the care of Ikora herself. She cared deeply for Eris, their old friendship serving often as an anchor to reality at times.

As much as Eris wished to reciprocate, there was no time to focus on such things.

The potpourri fell among the pillows as Eris dressed for the day. The last pieces of her attire to be placed on her personage was her veil and the headdress that kept it in place. As her hands wrapped the material around her head, her fingers caught in the tangled tendrils of wet, black locks. Holding the ends of the veil in one fist, she tried to pull the hair out of her grasp with the other. A frustrated sigh escaped her full lips as Eris succeeded in pulling more hair and lost her grip on the material all together. The former Huntress cursed under her breath and strode to the bathroom in search of a pair of sheers. Drawer after drawer, she yanked them open; and drawer after drawer, she slammed them shut.

Eris growled at her luckless venture and left the restroom. She could not afford to waste the important time she had on useless cosmetic—headaches—and resolved to leaving her small apartment behind in a cloud of gloom. As she came to the end of the corridor where the elevator was located, at least a dozen or so Lightbearers parted before her as if she had cleaved herself a pathway with a Hive sword. Eris had not bothered to don her headdress and the only thing concealing her appearance was the veil she had loosely tied in place.

Her hair no longer dripped with moisture but had started to wave and curl with dampness. The elevator doors had parted, and its newly arrived occupants practically jumped out of the contraption with silent terror as they ran out of sight.

"Did you see her face?" one of them asked.

No one answered, but their silence was clear enough.

Eris bit her lip as a scowl began to form on her Hive-human features. Stepping onto the lift, her personal frustrations swiftly hurtled from a three to a twenty. In her silent stewing, Eris had not noticed the presence of a Guardian to her left until they shifted to lean against the elevator wall.

Eris stiffly turned to them with a furious expression, almost begging for a war of harsh words and scathing remarks. Her anxieties dialed down to a ten as she caught sight of someone familiar. She almost wished she had not seen or acknowledged them for that matter. Turning her focus straight ahead, she decided to say nothing as an awkward tide washed over them.

No matter.

Eris did not have to explain herself. She simply was who she was. She might look unearthly—appalling, hideous, ghoulish, abnormal...revolting—but there was nothing Eris could do. The ghostless woman mostly hid herself behind the veil and she felt the eased comfort of its secrecy. She understood its protection and basked in its familiarity—it was home.

"Morning, Eris," he spoke, his voice kindly and without judgement.

"Guardian," she answered with reserve, eyeing him with a suspicious glance. He was helmetless and his dirty-blonde hair hung to his shoulders in loose waves. His dark beard was neatly trimmed but slightly full. With a quick scratch of his jaw, his blue eyes searched her expressions with thoughtfulness.

"Even after all this time, you still won't call me by name?" he asked straight-faced.

Eris laughed humorlessly. "Crota's End. Does that suffice?"

"Sure, but 'Roman' is fine," he offered with equally dry jest.

"Roman," Eris answered, the name seeming strange from her lips.

He nodded approvingly and all went silent once more. As the number counter would tick on by, denoting the floors they were journeying past, Eris would catch him staring at her from her peripheries. A tick of irritation set in her jaw and her fingers clenched.

"Why do you stare at me?" she inquired after a while.

Roman pushed off from the elevator wall, leaning toward her as he reached a hand outward and pressed the "emergency stop" button. The lift lurched to a halt as Eris's eyes flicked between him and the hand he rested on the red knob.

"Eris," he said after a moment, "you are so very hard to talk to sometimes. I came here to warn you."

She clenched her teeth before batting his hand away from the dials. The side of her fist punched the button and the elevator resumed course with a starting jump. "Warn me of what?" Eris inquired, while taking a step back to steady herself. She folded her arms and began drumming her fingers against her upper arms. Roman took that moment to stop the lift again and the cabin jerked to a standstill. This time he took a step in front of her, effectively keeping her from the control panel.

"Just stop for a moment," he demanded, "and listen."

"Your arrogance is trying my patience," she stated as she dropped her arms. "Hunter," she added after a moment.

"Unbelievable," he breathed, his blue eyes flicking away from her. "Look, I'm trying to save you from the stupidity that you will find on the top level."

"And I," she emphasized, "am trying to make it to the Vanguard Hall for a meeting with the Consensus before I leave for Io. My mission is important and you, are keeping me. Move or I will move you."

Roman raised his gauntleted hands in a motion that showed he was finished. The Hunter moved aside and resumed his carefree lean against the cabin wall. A chime came from overhead when they reached their destination and Eris plunged along without a second thought. She strode forward with purpose and left awkward matters, including Roman, behind. Eris began muttering to herself as she climbed a curving staircase that lead her to a bridge before the courtyard commons.

Walking toward her was a passerby Guardian who bumped shoulders with her and didn't bother to apologize. Eris brushed it off and she resumed her course. Taking a side staircase, she descended its depths and crossed over another bridge. The walkway joined her to a small terrace with three small tables, all of which were unusually occupied. Ignoring the chattering Lightbearers, she strode on by with her head held high.

Forthwith, a slight breeze kicked up and Eris felt her hair take flight somewhere beyond her shoulders. The gust began to build, intensifying in tandem with Eris' burgeoning self-consciousness. As her anxieties rose higher than the tallest Tower parapet, Eris' veil was promptly snapped up and away into the breeze. Terrified by her plenteous insecurities, Eris' hands flung to her head, her fingers barely touching the shroud as it spirited away.

In hopes of catching her veil, Eris turned to grab for it, but found a broad-shouldered Titan holding the covering in a tight fist. He regarded the cloth for a moment and then looked to her with disgust written all over his face.

"Why are you still here?" He spat. "I'm surprised the Vanguard let a Deathsinger stalk our halls. Corrupting our Tower. Giving all our secrets to the Hive."

The Titan extended his arm outward and over the terrace railing letting the veil fall freely below. Eris scrambled to snatch it from the air, but regrettably, her long fingers grasped nothing. The wind swept Eris' hair over her face as she righted herself, defeat found nowhere within her countenance. She stood tall and her trio of eyes hardened with audacity.

"You fool! You know nothing of the whispers of the deep, nor the songs in which are sung from the grips of death itself," she chastised passionately. "I am no oracle of deathly hallows. I do not pluck a tune from the chords of nether-realms and use them against my people. No! I am the town crier, seeking to relay a message of warning to those brave enough to hear it."

"So, what? You think yourself important?" someone asked behind her.

Eris turned and found a Crucible-savvy Huntress with clenched fists. "You think you can walk in here and demand our attention and our respect like devoted followers?" The Huntress took a step forward, shoving her helmet into Eris's personal bubble with blatant disregard. "You disgust me, you ugly Witch!"

Eris felt the sting of a slap cross her cheek as her head snapped to the side with the motion. Her gloved hand cradled her face, half in shock and half in poignant ache. She felt the tickle of miasma come to the corner of her eyes before a trickle of heat and pain began to seep. The trickle soon gave way to the free flow of ichor, black and runny like liquid ink. Eris could not feel the black streams at first as a numb sting crawled over half her face. The petty assault had proved quite astonishing, but the shock to her internal mechanisms was far greater.

A heated outrage began to bubble deep with Eris, her self-control slipping into fury.

The Huntress raised her hand again and motioned for a second assault causing Eris to flinch. Her trio of eyes scrunched closed, waiting expectantly of a fresh and smarting affliction.

Nothing came.

Eris' Hive-eyes opened, blinking with apprehension and wonderment. There before her was Roman, wrestling to maintain his current advantage over the struggling Huntress in his arms. Eris watched as the ageless woman squirmed left and right, working to alleviate the pressure on the arm bent behind her back. Roman gave a final squeeze to the Huntress's neck before roughly shoving her off to the side. Eris fixed her hawkish scrutiny upon her assailant, not quite minding Roman as he brushed past her to deal with the Titan.

The two men bickered for a moment and somehow, an agreement was struck between them. Eris had not bothered to listen as she kept her skeptical gaze on the Huntress who seemed to be considering retaliation. "Let's go," the Titan said as he knocked shoulders with Eris on his path to usher his friend along. Eris held her shoulder as a new pain blossomed there and she gnashed her teeth at them as they scrambled away.

Roman came to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He turned them both around to face their remaining onlookers. Eris felt him shake with hidden frustration while maintaining a firm, but gentle grasp on her shoulder. She had struggled against him, trying to push away his touch. It burned with meaning and she did not know how to handle it. For all she allowed herself to understand, Eris knew it burned her. She stopped after a moment realizing he would not budge.

"Anyone else here wanna take a crack at her?" He growled.

No one said a thing.

"Any takers?" he asked again.

Silence yet again.

"Look at her!" he yelled.

The other Guardians paused and regarded her with special attention. "If I find that anyone has touched her again, they will deal with the sharp blade of a Wraith. Eris' enemies are my enemies. Touch her and I will end you." His hand dropped from her shoulder as the Lightbearers stood up from their respective tables and fled up the grated stairs in silence. Satisfied with their exit, the man before Eris turned to regard her. The fire in his eyes died out and a caring expression washed over him.

"Eris, your cheek," he frowned. "It's. Bleeding."

Eris touched a glove to her face and frowned at the dark substance glistening on the tips of her fingers. Roman strode to her, grabbing her hand, and pulled her toward an empty table. She instinctively recoiled, yanking her hand out of his. Roman stopped and regarded her in complete bewilderment.

"Thank you for your...help," she stated lowly, "but I must be going."

"Not until I've looked that over," he said pointing to the fresh cut on her cheek.

"It is not a mortal wound," she sighed with exasperation. "Roman," she added while looking away dismissively. Eris turned on her heel to leave but was startlingly yanked in reverse. Roman led her toward a nearby table while disregarding Eris' protests and shooing slaps. Pulling out a chair, he pushed her into the seat and sat on the tabletop looking down at her.

Eris turned away from him and realized that dawn was now upon them. The morning had been dark like night before the confrontation began. Now, it was bright with pastel hues and a young morning sun, emblazoned with promise. Eris jumped when his touch ghosted her cheek, a small prickle of pain raising in response.

"She must have cut you with that slap," he surmised with a frown.

Eris batted his hand away like a pesky fly. "Do not touch me. It makes me...uncomfortable."

He laughed dryly, "Why do you always push me away?"

"Ido not push you away," she growled, "there is nothing to push."

"Exactly," he frowned again.

"Why are you so insufferable?" she complained as her hair fell in her face. "Always touching and lurking. Always...feeling."

"Because you're in pain," Roman answered. "And you don't see it."

"Do not talk to me about 'not seeing'. I am aware of more than you know," Eris asserted, raking a hand through her raven locks. Her hair fell behind her shoulders, a mix of loose waves and curls, staying in place for the moment.

"When will you realize that I'm on your side?" he asked, scratching at his beard.

"When will you realize that I do not need you at my side?" she questioned harshly. As quickly as Eris said the words, she felt the pit of regret sour her stomach.

Roman seemed slightly unfazed as he leaned forward, his arms crossed as he rested them on his thighs. His blue eyes studied her for a moment, examining her with purposeful care. No hidden agendas or malice in their azure depths. Eris felt heat rise to her cheeks that only worsened as she looked away.

"You don't mean that," he said after a time.

"How do you know what I mean?" she snapped, raking a hand through her hair again. "Curse this hair," she griped. Roman laughed, drawing her critical glare toward himself. He laughed afresh once more and she watched as his eyes crinkled with genuinely, tender humor.

"Can I?" he asked, pointing to her hair.

Eris pursed her lips, but sighed consent. "If an army of Hive suddenly unleash an apocalypse on this Tower because you have touched my hair, then I will hold you personally responsible."

Roman laughed as he pulled a hair tie from his thigh holster and laughed even harder when Eris' brow arched in question. He shrugged after a moment and put his hands on either side of her head. The feeling was warm and tentative, Eris hardly realized he was touching her. She closed her eyes and felt his hands moving her hair this way and that. After a moment, the feel of his touch subsided and the warmth of his hands could no longer be felt. She peeked a glance toward him and felt a blush blossom to her cheeks. He was leaning toward her, his face close to hers as he cinched her hair with a final tug.

"There," he said, maintaining the closeness between them. "Right as rain."

Eris said nothing.

"Don't listen to them," he said, his eyes searching her face. "You are perfect the way you are. Eyes and all."

Again, she said nothing.

"I know the whispers that go around this place and what they say about you," his blue eyes focusing on her green ones. "They are wrong."

"How do you know?" Eris asked, whispering back. She was unsure why her voice matched his and the reason suddenly intrigued her.

"I know you," he said, "that's enough for me."

A fresh wave of heat danced on her cheeks and it gave way to a sudden complexity of emotions she could not begin to understand.

"Eris," he began, "you're beau—"

"Eris!" a familiar voice called.

Roman sighed as he leaned back, and Eris paused for a fraction of a moment before looking over her shoulder. A familiar Warlock with skin dark and a high-collared robe made from the finest purple material marched toward them. The scooching of metal pegs against concrete caught Eris's attention. She looked back and found Roman standing to his feet. Bidding her a wordless farewell, the Wraith offered a slight bow and walked away.

Her green eyes followed his path toward Ikora, the two giving a quick exchange of pleasantries, before he turned to a corridor on the right. Ikora looked suspiciously between him and Eris, her silence speaking volumes.

"It is nothing," Eris said, standing to her feet.

Ikora pursed her raspberry tinted lips as the expression melted into a toothy grin. She chuckled. "You know, he's been watching you closely since you returned to the Tower."

"Some might say that is—what is the term—creepy?" Eris offered.

The Warlock covered her grin with the back of her hand, her root beer colored eyes glittering with humor. "From what I saw, it didn't appear that way."

Eris cleared her throat. "How did it appear?" she asked while scratching the back of her neck.

Ikora regarded the action and Eris with a smile. "Nice hair," she answered, glossing over the question. "Did he do that?"

Eris muttered something indistinguishable under her breath. "Perhaps."

"I amend my earlier statement," Ikora said looking away. "He's been watching you because he's been concerned. Your presence here at the Tower has raised some—extra awareness—among the others. There are growing reports of your abuse on a regular basis I hear. This is 'shocking' to say the least. Are these rumors correct?"

"They are nothing more than childish taunts meant to draw reactions from me," Eris answered.

"How many times has this happened?" Ikora inquired.

Eris shrugged.

"Once? Twice?" Ikora asked.

Eris shook her head "no".

"Five times? Ten times?" the Warlock guessed.

"No," Eris answered. "I have lost count."

Ikora folded her arms, doing her best not to play out her emotions. "I will see to it personally that this happens no more."

Eris nodded in understanding.

"Come, we have much to discuss. We're already late for our meeting with the Consensus," Ikora said, sweeping her arm out toward her friend. Eris followed alongside the Warlock, journeying toward the Vanguard Hall in awkward silence. Just as they came upon a large, steel door, painted with the golden Vanguard crest, the two came to an abrupt halt. Ikora took that moment to study Eris, gauging the mood between them while searching for hidden secrets.

"He's inside by the way," Ikora mentioned, nodding toward the meeting room.

Eris' only tell was the fidgety dance of her fingers against her sides as she privately braced for the difficult circumstances ahead. The Vanguard Hall was nothing new to her. She had endured many meetings here whether they be pleasant or raucous. The companionless Huntress nodded and Ikora did the same. They stepped into the room and hoped for good reports. Whatever the future held, change was in the air and the entirely foreign feeling of hope blossomed in her heart.

Perhaps, the day would not hold so much gloom after all.

"Hello, everyone," Ikora greeted. "Let's begin."

Eris took her seat at the long oak table, her place reserved to the right of Roman. She tried not to look to him but found it impossible with his fidgeting. As Eris sat in the chair, she found his blue eyes looking to her and realized there was something different about him. His shoulder length hair had been pulled up in a messy bun and she pursed her lips with skepticism.

"That would explain his skill," she thought to herself.

"Nice hair," he whispered.

Eris blushed.