Hello everyone, The New Mandalord is back.
Managed to get another chapter out. Destiny has been giving me a dry spell, but I will be doing a Crimson Day chapter right after this one.
As for giving credit, Destiny is owned by Bungie and Activision, all other characters and events belong to me.
Read - Review - Enjoy!
Two embattled armies, their forces scattered, glared unblinking at one another a white and ebon field. The had begun arrayed in perfect formation, their ranks orderly, their standings stiff among their ranks and their faces as hard as stone. Raised up on circular plinths, their lords and spiritual leaders had looked on imperiously - Emperor and Empress, along with all of their spiritual leaders with matching crafted regalia, stared down on forty-two soldiers in ruby-red while the opposing mirrored in sapphire-blue.
What had once been order soon turned to chaos, with no clear victor in sight.
"Your move," said Layla.
The Titan was leaning back and staring at Andrew across the finely craved game pieces. He narrowed his keen eyes, easing himself forward so that he was leveled with the pieces to contemplate his next move.
Unlike most of her order, Layla's loose fitting robes of pearlescent violet and her golden hair hung loose about her neck. Her fear and anxiety of being out of her armor long since gone as she took a sip of wine from a golden-goblet that stayed near the game board.
Andrew toyed with the sapphire war elephant piece, a heavy infantry piece that could move five squares regardless of who was in the way. He would move it so that it could keep any of Layla's heavy horses from attacking.
"Are you trying to distract me, Layla? It's not going to work." he asked, good naturely.
Andrew was clad in simple robes with the glowing green sash of a Warlock who had survived the battles of the Iron Banner. His private apartments adored everything that a Warlock would have on their quest for knowledge, though cleaner than before. Bookshelves filled with old scriptures of the old world had fine layers of dust on them while a machine with garish neon colors played large music held on black disks and ancient images hung on the wall. Flaking, fragile things of wood, canvas, animal hides and decomposing pigments, preserved eternally in thin blue fields of stasis; the smoke-pale portrait of a woman with the most alluring smile; blinding yellow flowers rendered in thick paints; torn pieces parchment of that listed among other things the rights to life, liberty and pursuit of some unknown entity; an old man strumming a guitar all in blue.
"Not at all, I just know how long you can be at times," Layla smirked slightly and allowed the shoulder of her robe to slip ever so slightly. Andrew's eyes lit up ever so slightly, but then returned to their focused nature. Not even her obscene gesture could distract him from inning their bet.
Andrew made his move, a cunning outflank with his last war elephant. He sat back, arms folded, looking quite pleased with himself.
Layla lughed, a fenuine expression of warm ease that she seldom felt except for when she was around the Warlock.
"You should really mask your intentions better, Andrew."
"Should I?" His face went from angelic innocence to impish delight. "You might be able to read my intentions, but my mind is my own." he said. "Death in three."
"Now who is using distraction?"
"All is fair in love an war," Andrew merely gestured to the board with his hand.
Layla's moves were faster than Andrews, moving her cannonade piece so that it would deal with Andrew's remaining war elephant. She knew that Andrew would take his time once again, so Layla stood from her seat to stretch her stiff limbs. One of the many art pieces had caught her eyes; a night sky of heavy blue paint brimming with whirling clouds, shining stars, and a bright crescent moon. The swirling sky directed her eyes around the painting, with spacing between the stars and the curving contours creating a dot-to-dot effect.
"Sometimes, Andrew, I swear this isn't a private residence anymore, rather a museum." She moved onto a different piece, painting of a a picture of a diner at night. "Not that I am complaining."
"You will be amazed at what Fallen pirates decide what is worthy of taking," said Andrew. "Found most of these in an vault in the North American Empire, others in the European Dead Zone."
"You do have a fine eye, although I am not so sure about some of these paintings," she pointed to a piece that had looked as if the art had given up and just through paint and other materials onto the fibreboard.
"It is meant to represent motion and thought while creating the piece."
"Really?" said Layla, tilting her head to one side, "What is it supposed to be."
"I don't believe it is supposed to be anything. Rather it is supposed to show raw abstract emotion."
"And this one?" Another painting over a chaise lounge sofa, depicting a nude young woman, reclining on a couch or bed in the sumptuous surroundings of a ancient palace. She seemed completely unconcerned in her nudity.
"Yes..." began Andrew, struggling to put into words the rights emotions so he could explain it without getting slapped. "Despite it's obvious erotic nature, celebrating marital love and the physical intimacy between man and wife, a supposition supported by a number of details. Notice how in her right hand, for instance, the girl holds a posy of roses, which symbolized love; also, the sleeping dog was a common symbol of fidelity; lastly, the maids in the background are depicted rummaging in a traditional cassone, where wives commonly stored their trousseaux."
Layla shrugged and asked, "why do you insist on collecting such object? They are a bit of a distraction from your duty for the City."
"You've been talking to Ana again, haven't you?" Andrew regretted the words the moment they spilled out of his mouth.
"I'm free to speak to whomever I wish," Layla said in mock indignation. She knew that some of her fellow Titans could be a bit determined in their duty, but Ana Kynsaka was a borderline zealot. Besides her usual gung-ho personality, she frequently showed rather low expectations of other Guardians - particularly Warlocks.
Andrew shook his head. "These works will be my lasting contribution for the centuries to come. Yes, there are planets to explore and enemies yet to defeat, but what manner of galaxy will it be if there are none to appreciate what we had created before? This world is empty enough without if it will deny art, music and poetry, and those to appreciate them. Art and beauty are as close to the divine as we find in this godless age. These pieces will do better in a place where people can appreciate them, then locked in a n ancient vault. Through that their creators are immortal."
"I still think they are a distraction," said Layla, continuing to examine the female in the painting.
"Not at all, babe, on the contrary. We are meant to go out and retake our lost world, collecting ancient science and art, but certain items do not come in engram format. It is said that empire follows art and vice verse as as those of a more prosaic nature might theorize, and I would rather go without food or water for weeks then go without art and science."
"I've seen you hungry. I'd rather go up against Oryx again then deal with you when hungry," said Layla.
Andrew felt a flush of embarrassment, but suppressed it before it could show.
Layla looked unconvinced and pointed to the unfinished works that lay at the far end of the state room. "So what are these ones then? They're pretty good - in a scribbled kind of way. What are they supposed to recreate?"
The embarrassment was back and Andrew was grateful that he kept his back from her.
"I was indulging my creative side, but nothing serious," said Andrew. His pen and ink drawings were a collection of different areas of while on his many adventures. The Dreadnought was his latest subject of interest, since it portrayed the artistic and religious side of the Hive, as well as giving him the mechanical ingenuity of the Cabal.
Layla shrugged once more and placed the drawing back on the table, just as a piece clanked down and Andrew declared, "I won."
"What?" Layla rushed back to the table where her Emperor piece had been knocked off his raised plinth. In its stead was the odd looking Praxic - a precursor to modern Warlocks. Appropriate. She was robed and blind seer clutching her staff of office, an iconic depiction of an eye with the letter 'I' serving as the iris.
Layla had to do a mental play-by-play in order to remember where the piece was earlier. The Praxic was the only piece that could move indefinitely along a diagonal path, as long as there was space available or until it took out an enemy piece. Could she have been so preoccupied that she allowed that one small piece to slip under her notice?
"You cheated, cheater!" Exclaimed Layla, though it lacked any real commitment as the plays started to make more sense.
"A false accusation from a sore loser," Andrew said with a big dumb grin on his face, making Layla choose whether or not to hit or tackle him. "I never figured Layla Robinson of the Azure Nexus Robinsons' was a sore loser. That's disheartening to say the least."
"Warlocks," Layla said under her breath. She knew what was coming next, since she was the one who came up with the bet. The loser of two of the three games had to do whatever the winner commanded. "So what do you want for your prize?"
Andrew leaned back in his chair, swirling the clear contents in his silver chalice. A dark look crossed over his smug expression, making his normally pale-blue eyes seem like two dark pits. Something primal stirred with Layla.
"What any man wants from a gorgeous woman at this hour. Dinner!"
Hit him. Definitely hit him.
XxXxXxX
"Well, I have to admit that was the more - interesting meals I have ever eaten. Whatever they taught you in training, cook wasn't one of them."
"You can be such a critic," she said, leering at him as she took the dishes. "You said you wanted dinner, you never implied it had to be good." She looked at the remains of the brisket on the platter. "Bison briskets aren't supposed to be this tough though."
Andrew laughed. "It wasn't that bad."
That was an understatement. The meal was not horrible, but Andrew could tell that all of Layla's cooking mistakes were done intentionally. He knew she could cook, he had experience it before. Layla could manage to take even the normally tasteless standard-issued rations into culinary masterpieces using nothing but a small fire and her helmet. This, however, definitely one her more interesting creations, so interesting that it made Andrew wish he was eating those tasteless rations.
The brisket was on par with a leather belt and burnt to the point that he could have used it for one of his charcoal drawings. The salad looked all right in the bowl, but it was swimming in bitter white vinegar. The watery coleslaw should have been eaten with a spoon like soup or slurped-up with a straw. Finally the dessert, a bread cake, was so hard that the Stoneborn Order could have used it to repair any damage to their impenetrable wall.
"If my chefs heard about what I created, they would have burned me on the spot," Layla said, disappearing into the kitchen. "Promise you wont tell anyone!" Dishes clattered in the sink.
"For you, my darling, my lips will remain sealed." Unless Nel starts to interrogate me.
Spite was the best motivator, but usually that ended in greater results then the one that was given.
Andrew rocked in his chair and got up to join her in the kitchen. Layla was over the sink, scrubbing the platter with impunity. Meaning any aggression she still held towards him, she was taking it out on his place wear. Hopefully this wouldn't mean he would have to scour the European Dead Zone for replacements.
"Mon amour." He said as he snuck-up behind her while she was scrubbing out the salad bowl, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Are you alright?"
"I don't think you should be asking that right now," Layla moved out of Andrew's grasp.
"Well I don't think you should take it out on my dishes."
"They had it coming."
Andrew continued to hold her in his arms, and eventually Layla ended her resistance and settled, but refused to lower her attitude.
"What can I do to make it up to you?"
"Simple," Layla squirmed out of his grasp and went back into the parlor. Andrew could hear the clattering of pieces and soon followed suit. He found that Layla had reset the board, this time setting the pieces and terrain in a new order than the last game. "I want a rematch. Double or nothing!"
Andrew laugh, "You're on, mon amour."
Author's Notes:
So Crimson Day is upon us, and if you are someone who loves that day then I say good to you, but if you are like everyone else I say even better. To all the single Guardians out there, do not fret, the New Mandalord has a remedy. Get some of your best friends together, get some beers and fried chicken and rft the worst romantic movies with them. It is the best tradition of them all.
Til next time.
Peace.