Hours later the guardian is in front of the memorial- an empty coffin with a familiar broken mask on top. Small mementos and flowers of all kinds are scattered about. The guardian herself laid down Asters, purple daisy-like flowers representing faith, wisdom and valor. It seemed most appropriate for the tradition. The gift he'd given her and so many other guardians is his time and teachings, abstract concepts that aren't easily represented by tangible objects.
Next to her, her ghost spins his shell and makes a low electronic whirring noise. "They never did find his body. I wish, at least, we could have buried him in the soil of the city he helped build."
The guardian hums in agreement. She holds out a hand, coaxing her little light to come to her. He does, nestling against her palm as she pulls him close. He is wearing his simple white shell for the occasion, just as she wears the first armor he ever transmatted for her.
"The first time the city has been without a Speaker. What will we do now, I wonder?" he asks softly, not really expecting an answer.
Yet someone else replies in a firm voice. "We will do what needs to be done. Hunt down the remaining cabal. Secure our borders. Rebuild." The tone leaves no room for doubt. Her jaw is set in grim conviction.
"Commander Ikora." The guardian gives a courteous half-bow.
"Guardian Summers." Ikora returns the greeting. They stand in respectful silence for several minutes. Summers wishes she could do something to help elevate Ikora's grief, but knows of nothing to say, not when she feels heavy with guilt herself. "You did all you could," Ikora says softly, sensing the other woman's shame.
Images flash through Summers' mind in quick succession. Scorched walls. Broken furniture. Empty gun cartridges. Blood. Corpses. And through a gaping hole in the wall - the sight of a cabal gunship fleeing the scene. It was Summers who first reported that the Speaker had been taken. "I've slain gods, commander, but I couldn't save him. I fear I've grown soft, complacent." She spits the words out with vitriol to spare.
"I do recall many trainees who would say otherwise," Ikora steadily reminds.
Summers winces. Immediately after the horror of losing her light, her thoughts went to the many newly minted guardians the Age of Triumph brought with it. Kinderguardians they were jokingly called, once official classes had to be created to support the influx.
"Despite her sometimes anti-social tendencies, my guardian can quite easily act the part of mama bear." The ghost chirps teasingly, butting lightly against Summers' cheek. Summers frowns and gives him a playful flick. Her ghost twirls its shell and whirs affectionately.
Ikora chuckles fondly. "They do look up to you. You would do well as an instructor."
Summers resists the urge to shake her head adamantly no. "Er-" Her ghost makes the approximate sound of a human clearing their throat. "Actually, commander, we were hoping for something a little different. We'd like to return to the field."
Ikora arcs an eyebrow. "You hardly need my permission to do that."
The guardian and ghost share a meaningful glance before the latter haltingly continues. "Well, we'd like to do missions without a fireteam. Missions that still matter."
Ikora's eyes suddenly glem in understanding. She tilts her head to the side, seeming to regard Summers in a new light. Summers fights back the urge to fidget under the scrutinizing gaze. She considered and debated her options with her ghost for a long while before eventually deciding to go for it. Ikora's Hidden. She just didn't realize they'd be asking so soon.
"Hmm… Find me again tomorrow, guardian. I may have something for you."
"Yes, ma'am." They spend the rest of the evening in meditative silence; they watch the citizenry pay their respects to the Speaker until the sun dips behind the horizon and leaves the Last City in perpetual, beautiful twilight.