Stand as Titan

by Twisted Fate MK 2

Guiding Light had, for centuries now, sought out his partner. His Guardian. When earth offered nothing, and he found his purpose there ended, he reached out to the rest of his home - Sol. When even that failed, desperate, he pushed beyond it. Across the stars, he journeyed, seeking his Guardian. Until, at last and on a far-flung world, he found him.

3. Chapter 3

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'Cerulean', as he'd decided his name was now, relaxed as best he could as the old truck trundled along the road. The pavement was old, and more than a little holey, which rocked the truck roughly as it made its way. The truck's radio was as old and busted as the truck itself, with a missing dial and dull, dead lights. And even the seat had been worn down by time, it's frame jabbing at the sides of his rear and all along his back, which was made all the worse by the rickety rumbling.

Even so, he wasn't unhappy.

The sun was warm on his face, and through his clothes, and the window was down, letting in a warm breeze as they went. The trees were moving with the wind, leaves fluttering through the air prettily. All in all, he was content.

Finally, though, Philipa broke the silence and asked, "So, what're ye wanderin' for anyway?"

"I don't know." He answered truthfully, "I just… Am."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Sounds freeing, that." She sighed, "Was hopin' you were a Hunter…"

"Of?" He asked without thinking, wincing even before Guiding Light could do more than sigh.

"The bloody dear, you mop." She laughed, shaking her head, "Guess yer a bit young to hunt anythin' else, though, to be fair."

"She must mean Grimm." Guiding Light whispered into his ear. "The things that probably, uh, killed you. The old you, I mean. People kill those, and they're Hunters- Huntsman and Huntresses, sometimes, too. But anyway—"

"Is there trouble?" Cerulean asked, cutting his Ghost off and turning to face the older woman more fully. She shrugged and grimaced, and he frowned deeply. Firmly, he asked, "Is there?"

"Well, I mean… I wouldn't have asked ya if there wasn't, would I?" She chuckled and shook her head wryly, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear idly. Anxiously. Quieter, she went on, "But ye said ye aren't, so-"

"I didn't say I wasn't." Cerulean corrected her.

"Cerulean, we aren't equipped…"

"Ye don't have to… Worry, about me an' mine."

"I want to." He said to each of them equally. She shot him a look, and he was sure Guiding Light was shooting him one, too. To calm both of them, he added, "At least if I can. And I won't know if I can unless you tell me what's going on."

"Yer an odd one…" Philipa sighed quietly, shooting him a side-eye like he'd done or said something strange. Which, it was possible, he had. He had no real frame of reference for it, after all. "But fine. Suit yerself. Mind if we talk over a meal?"

"I don't, but…"

"Hard for cash?" He grimaced and she chuckled, "No worries. We'll head ta my place. I'll whip somethin' up for us and tell ye all 'bout our little problem. See what ye can do, sort out pay. Aye?"

"I guess that works, yeah."

"Good." She nodded, "Be there 'fore ya can do more than blink."

Curious, he blinked and looked around, but they still weren't there. When he pointed that out, though, Philipa just called him a 'wiseass' and laughed at him.

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They pulled off the road just in sight of a scattered town that stretched out over a couple of hilly miles. Houses sprouted up among the trees, like a natural growth all their own, pock-marked by chimneys and tall, spindling antennae. Flying higher, above the truck, he could make out the curved roads that flowed between them and, further, a large building in the center he took for a town hall, or police station, or even both, set into a plaza in the center of it all. It was surrounded by low stores and offices of means and designs even he couldn't make out.

And all of it, enclosed by a short wooden palisade, holed in a handful of scattered spots where he could see men working to put up new logs.

Philipa's home itself was… Well, rudimentary in a lot of ways, to the best of his travelled opinion. Still far better than the tribalism he had grown used to, on broken Earth and to an extent even beyond it. But rudimentary nonetheless, built at the back of a long, almost hidden dirt driveway that circled it, nestled in the trees and undergrowth.

Her house had been built of logs, with smoothed faces but with an obvious roundness to their edges where they met each other, and cut-outs that allowed them to be slotted together like blocks. A sort of resign concrete that he had never observed before had been used to adhere the sections together. He could detect electricity, so power had been wired through it somehow, but without cutting into it or revealing himself and scanning more intensively, he wouldn't be able to determine the methods.

Unfortunate…

Inside, it was equally as simplistic as the outside would imply. A two-room design, with a living area and kitchen combined into one and a smaller room behind a door that was presumably where she slept. Counters lined the back wall, split by a sink and ended by a refrigeration unit and cast-iron, round-bellied stove that looked as old and rusted as the truck had. And a table sat against the wall opposite the counters, against the wall by the door they came in through, with an old, boxy television on the floor in between the two and a stout, small table behind it.

"Y'all don't mind me none." Philipa called over her shoulder as they came in, striding across the room to another door directly opposite the entrance. "I'll get a fire goin' and fry us some chicken an' 'tates. Sound good?"

"Alright."

She slipped out the back and, for a long moment, his Guardian just stood dumbly in the center of the room, staring at the door.

"Stop that." Guiding Light hissed, "Sit on the couch, you look out of place."

"I am out of place…"

"True enough," he admitted, "but don't look it. Sit!"

"But-"

"And remember, others can't see me or hear me. Not right now, at least —I'm cloaked for a reason, you know." He said as the Guardian sat on the couch, easing back on it with a sigh while Guiding Light went on. "I mean, I should hope you understand that. And know better than to simply talk apparently to nothing while others are-"

"Guiding Light."

"Yes?"

"Calm down." His Guardian smiled, "You're rambling."

"Ah." He murmured, "I see. My apologies."

"Mhm."

They waited another few minutes before Philpa came back, an old leather backpack on her back, with lengths of log and branches poking out of it. She sat it by the door and knelt to open the stove, dragging some of the dried wood out of the back and humming while she stacked the stove and then got to work with an old, dull looking fire striker, trying to light a ball of tinder on a leaf in her hand. Invisible, and fascinated as ever, he floated over to watch her.

Until, finally, it started to smolder and she slid the bundle into the oven to watch it catch and spread, crackling to life.

"Come on to the table, now." She called back as she pulled a pan out and sat it on the stove-top and then dug out the chicken she'd promised. "Easier ta talk than if yer all the way over there, ye know."

"Alright." He could somehow feel the Guardian's stare as he stood, even though the man couldn't possibly have seen him.

"Now, I hate ta talk 'bout black business over food, but…" Philipa sighed, "s'why we're here, ain't it?"

"That and chicken." His Guardian noted mutedly.

"True 'nough, that is." She sighed, "True 'nough… Well, south'a'ways, ole' Grayback's farm stands. Couple hundred acres, feeds most near everybody in the town we got here. Both ways —most of our work is there, so there's money, plus that's where we get the food."

"I see."

"Logging, too." She sighed tiredly, "And housing… Inside them walls, Grayback is king. Owns the wood that makes it an' keeps it all runnin'. Wall, too. Might as well call the town Grayback Kingdom."

"Is it that bad?"

"Oh, not all that horrible, really." She waved him off, "Grabyacks throw their weight around, sure, but not so often. Better 'n Vale, at least."

"Vale?" He and his Guardian both said at once, though the woman could only hear one of them.

"Ye." She nodded, over the sound of meat frying and grease popping. "Out in Vale, Council will throw their weight 'round just for some extra coffee. Here, s'just when they really want somethin'. Anyway, they're only important as a side note."

"The Grimm." Cerulean nodded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and cocking his head curiously. "Related?"

"Mhm." She nodded, stepping to the side to cut up a few potatoes quickly while she watched the chicken simmer. "Loggers been goin' missing. Twelve, now. Graybacks hired some guns, sent 'em into the woods."

"And?"

"Dozen in." She said, "Three out. Webknechts, they said they seen. Big bastarding spiders, big as you are."

"Ah." His Guardian grimaced and shivered, like a chill had run up his spine, and Guiding Light wondered if that was an echo of fear. An old phobia perhaps?

That would be problematic…

"Do we know how many there are?"

"Guns said there were a couple dozen, but that was before they started fightin'." Philipa said, frying the diced potatoes around the chicken and sprinkling pepper and something oddly minty over the mixture. "I'd not head out there without thinkin' there's a couple dozen, though."

"If you're over-counting, you're in for a pleasant surprise." Cerulean muttered, "If you under-count, you could be in for a bloody demise."

"Well 'nough put, I suppose." Philipa chuckled, "You a fan of the fightin' circuits?"

"Not particularly." His Guardian answered, "Why?"

"Champion fighter said that, year or so back." Philipa shrugged, plating the food and turning to set one in front of the Guardian and another in front of the empty chair she slid into. "She retired, Huntress orientin', just a year ago. Bit after she said that. Someone asked why she was goin' for trainin' as good a fighter as she was."

"Ah." The blonde blinked, "I see."

"So," Philipa said around a bite of fried chicken and potatoes, "sound up yer alley?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, "If I had better equipment."

"Or the supplies to make it…" The blonde opened his mouth to repeat as much, and Guiding Light hissed, "Don't say that to her. Most people don't have a Ghost to help them along, you know."

"Well…" She chewed on a spot of chicken for a long time before she sighed tiredly, almost resignedly. "I… Could give ye my husband's old rifle."

"Yeah?"

"It ain't much, now." She was quick to say, "Just an old war-rifle. From the Faunus' bloody uprisin' a couple decades back. Outta date as hell, but… Well, I ain't usin' it. An' shite as it is 'gainst modern armor, it oughta kill Webknechts easy 'nough. If you're the Grimm killin' sort, that is. I ain't in the business o' sendin' men off to get eaten."

"We can handle it." Guiding Light assured his Guardian when he hummed and frowned, waiting for his input. "I can repair it, and if we get some wood and metal, I can upgrade it, too."

"It'll do." Cerulean nodded, "Can you spare a couple of knives and some of that wood, too?"

"Sure I can." She nodded, then paid him a long, almost sad look before she asked, "You're sure you can handle this, ye? Ain't no bravado in ye?"

"You have my word." The blonde promised, smiling, "And an… And an…"

"Guardian?" He asked after a second passed and the blonde just stared, confused, at the last few bnites of his food.

"And a Hunter never goes back on his word." He finished, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I-I'm sorry, Philipa. How tired I was just hit me."

"Ain't no worry." She smiled, "Ye can have the couch, and the knives. Husband had one o' those, and I do too, from my game taking days. You can have 'em in the mornin', plus as much o' the wood from my wood-bag as you need. For campin', yeah?"

"Mhm."

"I got an old bag, then, too." She nodded, "An' that cloak. I'll give ye that and a pot 'n pan for cookin', too. Plenty for roughin' it on a Hunt. Ye?"

"It'll do." He nodded, turning back to his food and adding a quiet, "Thank you, Philipa."

"You kill them spiders and come back, an' you ain't got nothin' to thank me for." She grinned as she rose, turning to drop her empty plate into the sink and adding as she turned for her door, "Eat up and get some rest. I'll get ye a blanket."

With her gone, Guiding Light whispered, worriedly, "Are you well, partner?"

"Mhm." He nodded, "I just… What I was saying, it felt like part of something. But I couldn't… Reach the rest. It was just there, though."

"It'll come, or it won't." Guiding Light said, in the uncomfortable position, already, of watching his Guardian struggle and knowing there was little to nothing he could really do about it. He'd seen other Ghosts struggle with the same, a few times, and experiencing it personally was…

Well, 'pleasant' wasn't a word that sprung to the fore, to say the least.

"I just need some rest." He sighed, standing and moving around to the sink with his plate. "We have work tomorrow, too. Are you ready?"

"Have been since I was made." Guiding Light chuckled, "Have been since I was made."

Or, at least, so he hoped…

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RedDemonEye :

I'm glad you enjoy my work so much, lol.

Tamer Spoon 3 :

So I have read, in the last few weeks. But unfortunately, the way they are used —the specialised decoding methods and fabrication methods in play - preclude them in this, beyond very basic engrams. Which MAY show up, but as you might have gleaned in this chapter, I have other ideas of how I may apply some of the same concepts.

MM Browsing :

A lot of that is spoilers, lol- But as evidenced by the Speaker's death not being mentioned, you can relatively easily surmise GL left before the Legion took the City in Destiny 2.

As for Light's abilities… Well, we shall see. I have a few ideas, but I'm not settled. And honestly, braining a Beowolf with a hammer made of pure Light-fire won't be changed much if Light hurts Grimm for whatever reasons. Lol.

Also, I update these around Requests. So expect two or three a month, when I have time, but not much else.

Glad you're enjoying!

The Baz :

Glad to hear it! Lol.