Day 16 - Worthy

Content warning: internalized lgbt+ phobia. (That is the hurt. There is comfort.)

I heard it in your song
I want to ease your pain
I want to fix the wrong
And let you sleep
I held you in my arms
The darkness in your head
The shadows through my bones
They can't get you

Radio Silence – June Lalonde


October 28, 2873; Crew's Camp, Obitochna Kosa, Old Russia, Earth

Andal rolled his shoulders as he pushed his way through the underbrush. Tevis had been bugging him about it, and perhaps they should move camp soon. During the daytime it was pleasant, but the night could be deceptively chilly. Andal chided himself for not bringing gloves and worked his cold fingers to keep them limber. He was certainly ready for the warmth promised by the orange glow of the campfire before him.

He entered the clearing and took a second to shake the leaves from his cloak and take in the Camp. Azra was the only one present, hunched over her knees and staring into the fire. She glanced up at him as he made his way over, and-

Andal did not like that expression on her face. Something was wrong. Her eyes reflected the firelight too brightly. She turned her head away and let out a sniffle and Andal realized that she'd been crying.

Immediately all thoughts of camp-moving and cold hands were out of his head. "Hey, Jax," he said softly. "Hey, don't hide it. What's wrong?" He circled around and settled down within arm's reach of her. He wanted to touch her, to hug her or tousle her hair or at least make sure she wasn't physically hurt, but the way she hunched her shoulders looked like she wanted physical space.

Azra didn't seem to want to answer his question, so her Ghost did. "We saw… you and Cayde yesterday," Spark explained.

Him and Cayde yesterday… oh. Everyone was supposed to have been away for the night. They'd gotten up to some fun in the (supposed) privacy. And them fooling around on occasion wasn't exactly a well-kept secret, but it wasn't a common topic of conversation. It was entirely possible she just hadn't known it was a thing until yesterday.

He knew what he'd be worried about in her shoes- so many groups of friends broke apart because of drama like this. "What me and Cayde have is settled," he assured her. "It's not going to cause any breakups. We're mature adults about it."

The Hunter winced. "It's not that," her Ghost murmured.

Andal cast a quick glance around the campsite, looking for some other source of distress, but found none. Had he hit some nerve he hadn't known was there?

He looked back at the Arcstrider. She was young still. Sometimes new Guardians brought weird notions from the Golden Age (and before) with them. But it was hard to believe that was the issue, not with her.

He'd been staring at her too long. She was hyperventilating. Whoops.

"Hey, kid," he soothed, carefully putting an arm around her shoulders. She didn't lean into it, but at least she didn't flinch away. "Breathe. Listen. Nobody's hurt, nobody's going to be hurt. Nothing has changed. I'm still me and Cayde is still Cayde, we're all still Pack. This has been going on for much longer than you've been alive, it's not gonna break anything."

"It's not… I'm not…" She hiccupped.

"Take your time," he said. "You don't need to say what the problem is if you can't. Just know you're safe, alright?"

"You're… you're you and Cayde is Cayde but I'm not," she said. "I… didn't really think about it till now. I'm not…"

"You're not… gay?" Andal asked. He could have sworn Azra had been harboring a crush on Ana Bray back before Twilight Gap. And people didn't usually have panic attacks upon realizing that they were straight.

"I'm not," Azra repeated. "I don't think I'm anything."

It clicked. "Oh," Andal said. "You get flustered every time that armorsmith flirts with you, I'd just-"

"But it's not like that," Azra protested. "That's just… flirting, isn't it? I didn't even realize- but every time I think about that I feel like I'm gonna puke."

"Just don't puke on me," Andal joked.

Azra hid her face in shame. "I'm… gods, it's just…"

She was breathing fast again. Andal squeezed her shoulder and finished her thought. "You like people, but you don't like sex."

"Everyone likes it," she said in despair. "I just thought- I'm young, and I'm not with anyone, but that's not how it works, is it? What's wrong with me?"

"Shh," he said, heart breaking a little bit. "Nothing is wrong with you. Absolutely nothing."

"But you and Cayde don't even like each other like that and you still do it."

"There are many different kinds of liking," Andal said. "It can get confusing. But like I said, me and Cayde know where we stand with each other. And we know where we stand with you. This doesn't change anything between us."

A bit of tension seemed to leave Azra as he said that. Andal wanted to scold himself. It was so easy to let things go unsaid, but not everyone was on the same page. Of course she'd think it would be an issue, insecure about it as she was.

But her breathing was far from steady. Andal pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin, and wished that there was some enemy to fight here. He couldn't protect her from herself. "You are not broken," he murmured. "You are not less. You have so much to give to the world. You're not worse than Lord Shaxx because he can punch really hard and you can't. And you're not less than Cayde because he likes certain… activities, and you don't."

She hiccupped again, but she wasn't crying, at least. "I mean, it doesn't need to be a thing with Packs, but if…" If she wanted something else with someone…

"It'll work out," he said confidently. Azra was such a bright spark, full of excitement and compassion. "You are sharp and quick and funny. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

"Nobody would be lucky," she muttered. "Not if I can't reciprocate." She spat the last word. Andal wondered if she hadn't done some research about this on the side. Relationship advice books wouldn't be very helpful for this particular set of circumstances.

"Someday someone's gonna fall for you so hard it's not gonna matter to them," Andal promised. "Might not be today, might not be for years. But it'll happen. You'll come across someone that watches you like you're the Sun."

"Painful to look at and best kept several thousand million miles away?" she said dryly. She was joking, but he flicked her ear for the comment anyway.

"Someone's gonna look at you like you're the most important thing in the universe to them," he corrected her. "And maybe they won't be interested in sex, like you. You're not the only one, you know. Or maybe they will be, but listen to me."

He pulled back and turned her face up so he could look her directly in the eyes. "This is important, Jax. Don't forget this. Anyone worth it will be willing to work things out. If they don't care about you being safe and comfortable, then they don't really care about you."

"I'd just feel so guilty," Azra said. "How would… how could I ever be worth that?"

"Kid," he said, feeling her pain acutely. "You are so considerate. You're selfless. You are more than worthy of being loved. All you need to do is find the person, or people-" he corrected himself, "that will see that." He hugged her close again, gratified to feel her no longer trembling.

"And until then, you have me. Forever." He stroked her back as she pressed her face into his shoulder. "And you have Cayde, and Tevis, and Shiro. You're never going to be alone, okay? I promise."


Day 17 - Did You Hear That?

Familiar ground's a distant thing
When you travel vague and crooked roads
And the sun's a scab on vacant skies
Now we always hope we're still alone

There's too much time for idle minds
Imagination's armed with hooks and knives
We count our fears to pass the time
Tired or not, don't close your eyes

West – Radical Face


December 02, 3953; The Citadel, Ishtar Sink, Venus

Azra hissed and tugged on Tevis's cape. Time distorted, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Tevis looked back, saw her wide eyes, then looked to where Quantis was peeking around the next corner several meters ahead.

It went unspoken, as it usually did. He shoved Azra forward and took several urgent paces back, casting about.

Azra leapt forward as fast as she dared. Quantis was still checking the sightlines. Any footsteps loud enough to alert the young Nightstalker would also alert the Vex, so Quantis whirled in surprise when Azra grabbed her bicep and physically pulled her back. She knew better than to gasp, at least, and followed Azra with haste.

Tevis gestured from a larger-than-average gap in the wall. It would have to do. Azra's skin prickled, another warning. She practically shoved Quantis into the alcove and stuffed herself in after. She swept the tail of her cloak out of the way just in time.

A second later, space hiccupped, and there were heavy metal steps on the ground. There had been no time to cast invisibility. Azra froze stock-still as the footfalls approached. Tevis jerked a thumb across his throat. Azra held her breath, counting heartbeats, as the Hobgoblin lumbered by. Beside her, Quantis Rhee was similarly frozen.

Its footsteps faded and Tevis rose smoothly from his crouch. He put a finger to his lips, then spread his hands palms-down in the air before him, reminding them for silence. They'd come very close to alerting the Vex.

He pointed at himself, then Azra, then Quantis, dragged the curled fingers of one hand over the back of the other, tapped his left middle and index fingers on his right, made a circling motion with a raised index finger, twisted his hand into a signed R and shook it.

Me, then Azra, then Quantis, slowly, knives only, ready?

Azra nodded. She was the Vex detection system. That had only been a close call because Quantis had gotten too far ahead. The young Nightstalker knew it too- she signed an apology, which Tevis dismissed with a wave. Time enough for that later.

Azra pulled her dagger and waited until she felt Quantis's grip on her cloak before she motioned the okay to Tevis.


Day 18 - Cracked Glass

All our love came out of the woodwork.
All our strength came out of the woodwork.
We only notice light
When darkness crashes against it.
We only notice light
Deep in the woodwork.

Woodwork – Sleeping At Last


The first year, Azra does not visit the Vault.

She has been trapped there for far too long. She has defeated Atheon; the victory is enough to quell her worries. And the horror looms too close. She needs distance. So she spends her time trying to distract herself, reacquaint herself with the real world.

Then, after Crota, her anxiety wins over. She takes Veera and she goes back, down the twisting hallways, across the looming caverns, and she finds nothing but dripping water and dead stone. No Praedyth. But no Vex, either.

She sets up a cache in the Waking Ruins for the wayward Warlock, and for a while, that is what she checks up on. She restocks it compulsively and tests the battery and the seals, always with a wary eye turned towards the spire and the Vault's door.

But the Vault is inactive. The glass isn't just cracked, it's shattered.

So one time, she ignores the cache and goes up to the door, Ghost orbiting nervously around her head. It's almost like she's testing herself, picking at a loose thread over and over, worrying the engines of a refurbished Sparrow just to be sure they won't fail on her. She stands next to the door and feels the fear. She opens it. And she steps through, into the den of evil.

But the evil is gone. She'd ended it. Nothing leaps out from the shadows trying to kill her or erase her from existence. The Vault is nothing more than a collection of intimately familiar tunnels and chasms now. So every once in a while, she takes a few hours to pace the hallways, reflexes always held wire-taut just in case. She pokes around a few confluxes and stares at the Glass Throne. It remains a horrible, horrible place. She is never not afraid.

But it is a known horror, a known fear. Every inch of this place is etched into her. So in a way, despite her fluttering heart and shallow breaths, it is a comfort.

And besides, it is good to know that the threat is gone. She reminds herself again and again that it is over. Atheon is gone, the Oracles shattered, the Templar disassembled into a pile of bronze paperweights. That knowledge is hard to make mesh with her infinite memories of her time trapped there, but every time she visits it gets a little easier.

Perhaps one of these visits will be the last time. She will go to the door, open it, and walk through. She will wander the hallways, heart pounding just a bit in her chest. She will scrutinize the shifting facets of the Glass Throne. She will peek her head into Praedyth's empty cell.

Then she will leave, and close the door, and never return.

Perhaps.


Day 19 - Run!

I stared right into the endless void
And I ain't going back if I got any choice.
I know how to live, I don't know how to die
And there ain't no thrills in the afterlife.

Dead Man's Hand – Lord Huron


?

The first thought in her head was It's going to rain tomorrow.

She opens her eyes, looks up at the wispy clouds partially obscuring the stars, and just knows. This evaluation of the sky, of the temperature and humidity of the wind on her skin, it feels as natural as breathing.

The sound of waves crashing reaches her. She wants to look around, to see where she is, so she sits up. It just kind of happens. She wants to be upright and then suddenly she is moving her arms, arching her back, and then she is no longer laying down. Her body knows what to do, even though her mind reels from a lack of… anything.

She blinks dumbly at the view. It is, to put it plainly, dark as shit. She can hear the waves, but she can't make them out. She can't even see the horizon, yet she somehow still knows it is there. She takes a deep breath of the air- there's a slight tang, a smell of brine and a humidity to it.

The second thought in her head was I am by the ocean.

It feels… familiar, somehow, though she is sure she has never seen the ocean before.

She is pretty sure she hasn't seen anything before. That would make this first view a pretty disappointing one.

How is she so sure that there are sights out there worth looking at? The only thing she knows is hard rock, half-hidden stars, the blank horizon of a moonless night, and sea air.

Wait, has the moon yet to rise, or is it simply behind her? (The fact that she knows about it without having seen it gives her another bout of confusion). She twists her back and cranes her head to look, and for a second she thinks she sees it-

But no, that light is too blue and too bright and too close to be the moon. It circles her slowly, keeping an even distance above the ground, until it is in front of her. It floats steadily, even though it is now a hundred feet above the ocean surf.

"Hello!" it says. "I-"

And that does it- she has no idea what this thing is, and she knows what stars look like and how rock feels and that the briney smell on the air is from the ocean- but her brain provides absolutely no context for this thing, the thing that abruptly stops talking and floats closer to her-

Panic closes her throat and the next thing that she can process is that she is running. The thin soles of her shoes protect her feet from the rocks and sharp-edged grass shoots and she stumbles but her instincts are screaming danger at her and she can't stop.

She dares slow and turn her head for a second, searching, but the thing is right there, so close, and it startles her back into a full-out sprint.

Her legs pump and her breath gasps loud in her chest as she desperately tries get away. Her heart races. She falls once, scuffing her knees and scraping her hand, but the pain only serves to fuel her panic. She can't even see anything, it's too dark-

Wait, no. There is a light, not clean white like the stars or the unnatural blue of that thing: it is orange-yellow. A fire, she thinks with the same part of her brain that recognized the weather and the ocean (the same part of her brain that makes her yell and flinch left when the thing just appears in the corner of her vision).

She has no logic. Where she is now is bad- she is exposed, she can't see, that thing is still following her- and that fire is the only thing she can make out that is different. She might be able to use it to her advantage.

So she changes her course and books it straight for the orange light.


Day 20 - Sleepless

They got my blood up in their veins
I get a cut, they feel my pain
They got my heart, they got my soul
They know the stuff nobody knows

Family – Mother Mother


February 14, 2891, 16:02; The Last City, Earth

Andal took a deep breath in and let it out in a sigh. He rubbed the bleariness from his eyes and picked the data pad back up.

"Dude," Azra said. "You need a nap."

He looked up at her. His vision took a second too long to focus. She had been keeping a companionable silence with Andal, cleaning her sidearm on the dining table and carefully keeping the oily pieces away from Andal's paperwork.

"I need to finish organizing these reports," Andal said.

"There are bags under your eyes," the Arcstrider pointed out judgmentally.

Charin whisked over and lit Andal with a flash of Light. The graininess was immediately gone from his eyelids, but he still felt like the world was underwater.

"I can heal the effects of sleep deprivation, Andal, but I can't make you not tired," the Ghost said. "She's right. You haven't slept enough recently."

Andal shrugged and tabbed over to the next report. He still had most of the ones from Venus and all of the ones from Earth to categorize before he was done for the day. The absence of a Hunter Vanguard these past years had left a lot of paperwork in the backlog.

"Have to get these done before six," Andal explained. "I'm supposed to be meeting Lord Shaxx for dinner. Some official Crucible business."

Azra shook her head. "That does not change the fact that you need a nap."

She seemed to let it go, for the moment, focusing on her gun maintenance. There was a minute or so of silence. Andal rolled his shoulders and stifled a yawn.

Azra promptly whisked the data pad out of his hands. "Seriously, Andal. Go to sleep."

"Those need to get done," he protested, trying the grab the pad back.

She held it out of his reach. "Then I'll do them for you."

He opened his mouth to speak again, but she shot him a flat look. "It's organizing scouting reports, Andal, it's not that hard."

Charin spoke up. "You need some rest." The small black-and-white Ghost hovered over Azra's head. "I'll still be here to help her."

"I'll even wake you up when I'm done in case you want to look it over yourself," Azra bargained, already swiping through the interface.

Andal was not satisfied. "But-"

"Do I have to call Tevis in here and have him force you to take a nap?" Azra asked. She lowered the data pad so she could glare at Andal over it and raised her eyebrows threateningly.

She would absolutely do it, he realized. So he put up his hands in defeat and moved to sit down on the futon. When he paused, Azra glared at him again, so he obligingly removed his boots and laid down.

He really only intended to close his eyes for a moment, but the next thing he knew, he was waking up. There was the smell of tea in the air.

Andal turned his head (tongue sticky, neck stiff) and took in the room, eyes still blurry from sleep. The light came in the window at a new angle, now 'evening' instead of 'late afternoon'. Azra and Shiro were sitting at the table, having an animated (but silent) discussion in sign language. Andal watched them blearily for a second. It was some debate about… tagging systems?

-whole point of scout reports, Azra signed. Small details matter.

That being said, Shiro argued back, it would make the search function useless, practically. If you were looking at Vex movements on Venus you would also get half of the reports on House Winter just because some Vex showed up on patrol.

Azra tapped her chin and signed slowly, thinking. Maybe a secondary tag system? Major and minor? So overviews are easy to form, but people can find the small details if they look for them?

Sounds complicated, Shiro said, dryness obvious on his face and the plain, unembellished movements of his hands. Are you planning on going back and re-tagging every scouting report?

We should not let how we used to do things affect how we do things now, Azra signed emphatically. We can leave the old reports and the old system alone and they won't get any worse. The conventions need to be changed sometime-

Charin noticed that he'd woken up. She floated over and settled on the pillow next to Andal's head. "The reports are finished," she said, so quiet she was barely audible even only from inches away. "They were chewing away at the backlog before they got in this argument about filing systems. I rescheduled dinner with Lord Shaxx. He understands you need the rest and wishes you well."

Andal was too sleepy to be upset at his Ghost for changing his schedule. He wasn't too sleepy to not be hungry, though.

"They ordered delivery," Charin offered.

Wake me when it gets here, Andal grumbled in his mind. He rolled over and let himself drift back into unconsciousness.