Left Unsaid

Crona came to a stop at the table and sighed. Neither Aro nor Asura noticed her arrival, shamelessly lost in their own little worlds during the time they had agreed to spend together. Both men were facing away from each other, towards their Ghosts, who had screens projected before them; various images Asura moved around with his finger and a scrolling wall of text for Aro.

Crona jolted the table and took some measure of amusement at how both men started, Aro's hand latching onto his food to keep it from scattering and Asura very nearly being shaken out of his chair. "Stop reading," she orders, setting her tray down.

"Aro, you wouldn't happen to have any 'can't read' jokes, would you? I've used up all my good ones."

"Nothing that won't get me shot," he mutters, not a hint of humor in his tone.

"Good answer," Crona says, finally sitting down.

Aro does indeed look up from the file Kain had before him and his eyes go to her exposed arm, Vex markings and all. "Does it bother you?" he asked, for the umpteenth time.

"Not as much as it used to." Her memories of the pain remained all too vivid. Drove her to nearly have the limb removed, just to make it stop.

"Works the same too. But nothing's changed about you."

"Nothing Sol or Ikora can find. Physiology's the same. Light's the same." She began eating, a special from the ramen shop on Cayde's recommendation. "But nothing we know can remove it. I lose the arm, it regenerates with the Aegis. Don't know if Ghost meant to give it to me but…" she shrugged, "It's here to stay."

Aro hums and she could tell she was losing him to his thoughts again. Arm snaking out, Crona reaches for and snatches his drink before he could absent-mindedly bring it up to his lips, pulling him back to reality. She takes a pull and frowns, swallowing before coughing lightly. "What's in there? Alcohol?"

Asura snorted at that.

"It's that milk tea May suggested." Aro takes his beverage back.

"Alcohol," Asura mutters, eyes still on his Ghost, "You need to have at least one drink in your life."

"Cinnamon and ginger," Aro continued, "Good for the throat."

Asura swallowed half his food in one go. "Daniel's not here," he said and Crona could already tell, just by the sound of his voice, where he was taking this, "Why would your throat be s-"

Aro wasn't having it. Without a change in his posture or facial expression, his leg swings out and strikes the Exo's chair. This time, Asura did fall, toppling over with a flail of his hands and an undignified squawk.

Aro left him to right himself, turning back to his reading. He catches Crona staring at it, trying to read the tiny text from a distance. He points to it with a fork. "Cabal military tactics, strategies and weaponry. Sora sent them to all of us." A quick thought to the Ghost over Crona's shoulder confirmed as much. "She wants us to read up," Aro says, "In case they become more of an issue than they already are. Asura's probably not going to do it…"

"Probably?" He was back in his chair.

"So I'm reading for two. Maybe in a week, I can meet with her and discuss counter approaches."

Asura swipes away the image his Ghost was projecting. "I thought our modus operandi in the field was to just poke you until you're mad and then get out of the blast radius? Why fix what isn't broken?"

Crona snorts. Then she snorts again at the look the Warlock gives the Hunter; annoyance followed closely by resignation. He was right. Months later and the Hive were still clearing out chambers he had single-handedly collapsed.

"Anyway, what's the plan?" Asura pushed his empty bowl towards the center of the table. "Sleepwalking today?"

"Sleepwalking?" Aro's eyes flit around, trying to decipher his meaning. "The meditating? Is that what you call it when I'm not around?"

"You're here and that's how I'm referring to them."

Aro grunts. "Not today. Meeting with the Speaker, hitting the shooting range, then retiring to my room."

"Anything...related to…"

"We try not to." Then Aro sighs, "At least, I try not to. It always seems to go there anyway." Then he shrugs, "He helps me answer a lot of questions, calms fears that keep me up at night. Helps me feel less…" Aro suddenly looks very tired, keeping his eyes down and refusing to meet the gaze of his team. He clearly had something more to say but he just shakes his head and moves on. "You're meeting with Lakshmi, Crona?"

"She's helping me get the part I need for that weapon I'm working on."

"Everyone's working on weapons…" Asura mutters.

"In return, she wanted to talk more about the Vault."

"What do you plan to tell her?" Aro asked.

"I know what not to tell her. She mainly wants to know about the Vex, their capabilities." She paused for a bit, her gaze falling to Asura before moving away. "She also wants some answers as to why she feels she has memories regarding the Vault."

Crona takes in the stares of both men. "Not that she's been inside or anything." They relax. "But they are strong. Strong enough to bother her."

"We all do," Aro muttered, "Maybe she spoke about it with Kabr or Pahanin…"

He clearly hoped to stop there. Asura dashed those hopes. "She didn't." The humor and constantly amused lilt in his voice were gone. He sounded grave and tired. "Wrath(K) barely spoke. But when he did, it was often about Praedyth. He let Pride turn him for Praedyth. He controls the Vault to Pride's ends, Pride allows Wrath to find a way to bring Praedyth back. And yes, Praedyth was FWC. One of the last things he did before their departure was speak to Lakshmi."

Crona kept her eyes on her hands. Out of the corner of her vision, she could see Aro rub a hand over his mouth, hear his fingers brush over dark stubble. Then he spoke up again, "Just...be careful what you tell her."

"I know that-"

"Not just about the Heralds. If people really knew what was in there...what the Vex were capable of…"

"I'm sure they'd take it in stride," Asura quipped, snapping back to normal "Look at how well they're taking...literally everything else."

Aro allowed a grim smile to spread across his features. "Are we doing any better?"

Crona chuckled, "Worse, in fact. So maybe he meant it as a compliment." Asura pointed at her and tapped the space between his eyes and mouth. She frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Saying you got it. 'On the nose'."

"You don't have a nose."

"Sleep with one eye open if you want it to remain that way."

Aro hacks his drink back up, putting his forehead down on the table and shaking with quieted laughter.

"Aro. Long time, no see." Aro looks up from his feet, something he reckoned he should have been doing some time before the end of his journey, and stops. He didn't need to do so to recognize the rumbling drawl, deep and familiar.

"Shin. How are you?"

Physically, the man hadn't changed in the year since they last spoke, despite his months in the wilds. Same lean stature, straightened spine and dangerously sharp eyes; leagues more put together than Aro, at least in his own self-deprecating opinion.

"Well enough," Shin replies easily. He continues his way down the stairs but his eyes never leave Aro's. Nor does he blink. "Speaker told me he was expecting you."

"Yes, I've...made this a habit."

"It helps?"

Aro fell quiet. Everything Aro had been dealing with mentally showed on his face, he knew that. Shin was just the last person he expected concern from. His threat...his promise, was burned in Aro's mind and hung at the back of everyone else's. Contain Kain, put a bullet through Aro's head and everything ends, just like that. The Gate dies with him and Pride has no way to expedite the Darkness' and its forces back to Earth. Save hundreds of thousands by killing one. Shin respected the Vanguard's wishes by not doing so the instant they met but his respect had limits. If Aro showed any sign of turning, any sign that he may irrevocably compromised, it was over.

But Aro was assuming much to think his concern was genuine. Shin wasn't friendly with him. He wasn't friendly with anyone. Still, he felt it was. He was unable to say why.

"It does." When he speaks again, his voice is low and cracks like the teenager he would never remember being.

Shin finally does blink. Maybe it was Aro's wishful thinking or maybe it was a trick of the light but his eyes seemed to soften. "Good." He continues his way down and Aro stands aside to let him pass. He does and he gives Aro's shoulder a good clap as he does, saying again, "Good."

Aro doesn't move again until Shin rounds the bend. Only after does he dare think about his meeting with Pride, for fear Shin would somehow read it on his face. He told Ikora and the Speaker about his ability to cross into the Ascendant Plane but lied about how he found out, claiming it to be a lucky guess. Both gave him the same response; this was rare. There were a number of Warlocks who could cross over. Thanatonauts, for the most part. But none could boast doing it so easily.

He steps into the Speaker's alcove, sees the tall, robed figure with his masked face turned towards a massive book. Before Aro could announce himself, the Speaker was already straightening, folding his hands together in front of him. He nods at Aro, loosening one hand to gesture towards a small table in the corner. Aro takes the seat offered and after a second, takes up the small, steaming mug waiting for him. The Speaker only sits after he does.

Aro never knew how to start these conversations but he never had to. The Speaker would always bring up some topic they had been on the last time they met. They spoke about dreams; his own and Maya's, their origin and their purpose. They talk about his training and his strange power. Aro hadn't let it loose in its entirety for a long while now but he doesn't doubt that he would still be able to. It was like a beacon of light in the recesses of his mind, with only his back turned to it.

Rarely was he in control when he tapped into his reserves. There were a few moments he could remember when he managed a modicum of influence in his own body when the Light had overtaken him. He saved Erek with his fire, toppled a monstrous Wrath(K) with the Void. It was the Speaker who deduced that he needed a goal in mind before using it; an aim to focus on before he took things that far. Save Erek. Kill Wrath. Aro believed so, even if he had little room to practice.

But the Speaker would rarely stick to such topics for long. He knew how often Aro's mind dwelled on such things and there was no need to bring it up even more. "There was something I wanted to ask the last time we spoke, before I was called away," The Speaker said, "Most Warlocks tend to take on studies alongside their fieldwork. I realized then that I had no memory of ever asking you about yours."

"It's no trouble. I never really picked one," Aro admitted, pushing the now empty mug away.

"Do you have anything in mind?"

Aro turned his eyes away from the Speaker and towards the outdoors, which he could see from the Speaker's space. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I mean, Aashir and Kayla take on Vex, May, the Hive, and Sora seems to hold an interest in everything but…"

He could hear the smile in the old Lightbearer's voice. "You could do as Sora does," he suggested.

Aro just scoffs quietly. "I'm no Sora." He sighed. "I mean, the Fallen have always been interesting but after what I saw in the future?" He shook his head. "I continue to fight Fallen today because I have to. But sometimes, I look at a Vandal and…" Aro froze.

"No one can hear us here, Aro. Speak freely."

"I see a Vandal and I remember the one cowering before Daniel's rifle," he continued, "I see a Captain and I remember the one who jumped in front of that rifle to protect her brother. I'll take down a bigger one, a Captain that towers above me, I'll look at its body prone on the ground with ether seeping into the air and I'll see the one in the future, walking around a village on Venus, letting Human and Awoken and Eliksni children dangle from its arms and head, playing without a care in the world."

"I mean, can you imagine that?" Aro said after the Speaker beckoned him to continue, "That first Archon my team killed? Can you imagine one of those giants playing with our children? Carrying whole trunks of lumber for homes during the day and sitting down to eat with us, their neighbors, at night?"

"No." The smile is still there, "No, I don't think I can. But I suppose that doesn't matter. It happened, regardless of my belief."

"Then there's the Darkness and the Hive. They're...a bit personal to me, as a topic, as you can imagine. Same could be said about the Vex in general. The Cabal?" Aro's facial expression takes a turn for the dark. "Cabal culture and military, maybe," he said. "But only to understand what drives them."

"What do you mean?"

"All of their attempts to take the system have ended in failure. Rasputin decimated their legions with just a test of his capabilities. I've read pulled comms transcripts, they're afraid of us. " He shook his head, "So why stay? Why remain in the face of such overwhelming odds?"

"Tyra Karn once told me that Cabal soldiers are exiled from their homes upon leaving," The Speaker explained, "Returning as conquerors is the only way they'd be allowed to return at all."

"Return victorious or die forgotten," Aro muttered. Then he rubbed his head, musing at the sudden tightness.

The Speaker pulls him back with a soft, calming laugh. "It's amazing the places your mind goes. You'd do good things, I'm sure of it."

Aro laughs with him but not for long. "I do wish there was time…"

Aro can't see his eyes but he feels them on his face, taking in every little thing it showed. "Ordinarily, I'd suggest one try and make time," he says gently, "But your circumstances are special. I'd only patronize you."

"Fighting is all I ever seem to do. Can't even sleep in peace," Aro muttered, sinking slightly into his chair, "It's all I seem to be good for."

"You lead your team rather well."

But Aro just shrugs. "Half of them barely tolerate me", he wanted to say, "The other half don't at all. One has even stopped pretending. He really wanted to say it. He nearly did. But this kind of discord wasn't something he wanted to start sowing throughout the higher-ups. He'd endure Shino's coldness, Mira's false half-smiles and Daniel's paranoia for now and just hope they get through this all. Maybe after, he can start fixing things. And if there is no after, then there is no after.

"Your...power," The Speaker starts again. They've never been sure of what to call it. "You haven't used it recently."

"Not since the Vault." Aro's fingers came up to his throat, remembering the pain. So much fire expelled from his mouth, his throat had been burned down to the vocal cords. So much power hastily and improperly forced out, as if he knew any proper way to do it.

The stress of using it multiple times and then seeing Pride had been enough to flat out arrest his heart. But bad experiences were not the only reason.

"It reminds you of him."

Aro let out a slow breath of air, one he didn't know he had been holding. "Somewhat. Says our proximity brings it out of me. Says that's how I used to be before I died." He swallowed and his voice dropped to just above an airy whisper. "I...I don't want to believe him but...who would know better?"

"Did Pride use it himself to disable the Vault?"

Aro shook his head. "That was all him. Don't even think he was trying. Don't think he was trying when he took down the other Guardians either. He's keeping his true abilities close to his chest."

"Maybe," The Speaker said, "But even he cannot hide himself entirely. I've spoken with a few others, especially Mira's team." Aro's mood soured even more at their mention. "They describe a pressure coming from him."

"Oppressive, choking," Aro describes purely from memory, "He's cold. Not like the wind passing over you but like that feeling you get that forces you to shiver for no reason. Only it's constant and worse when he looks at you."

"Survivors of the Disaster described Crota the same way."

Every time Aro thinks his mood couldn't get worse, someone opens their mouth. He laughed bitterly, "So he's as strong as Crota then?"

"Maybe. But if he is, then what are you?"

Aro stopped laughing. He tore his eyes away from the Speaker to look past him, towards the Traveler. Someone without experience, he muses. Without centuries of training. "Young," he finally answers.

The Speaker nods his head, as if Aro's self-defeating answer had been exactly what he was hoping to hear. "But as the old wolf likes to say, nothing is born strong. You will grow, given time."

At that, Aro could not respond.

The Speaker nods towards the exit. "Go on, Aro. The day's better spent on more pleasant things."

Aro rises and bows, turning on his heels and making his way out of the Speaker's alcove. He found himself tired; their conversations did often take a lot out of him. Made him question if he belonged behind a gun at the moment or if a short rest would do him good.

He's in the dark hall leading out of the North Tower when he stops, his head turning into a corner, almost of its own accord. His habit of seeing things right before they happened, it was happening more and more frequently now. He had hoped to write it off after the first time; seeing Crona walk through his door just a few seconds before she actually did it.

Instead of Crona, Aro found Xur, lurking as he always did. He blended easily with the shadows. Despite his constant movement, like he breathed with the entirety of his body, the pattern never broke. He remained seamlessly hidden; hood pulled down to cover the light of his eyes, his head raised to show them only in the presence of the Guardian he was waiting for.

He opened the mouth no one was sure he had and his croaking voice, though quiet, filled Aro's ears. "Your...visits to the Sea of Screams. They have not gone unnoticed."

Aro leaned against the wall, covering the dark corner with his body as much as he could without raising the attention of anyone who passed by. "And how do you know that?"

"Beings whisper of a third sun. It is brightening. It is waking up."

"Is that why you're here?" Aro demanded, "You want confirmation?"

"I know enough. The Nine know enough," he shoots back, "I am simply here to observe. You. Others. As well as events. Occasionally, I nudge."

"Like on the Reef? The Nine sent you to help us save Asura?"

All motion stopped and for what must have been the first time in recent memory, Xur's bright eyes blinked in the darkness. "Yes, they did," he finally answered, seeming almost unsure of himself, "And no. They did not."

"What? Damn it, would it kill you to make sense?" Aro's voice was rising and he was lucky there was no one around to hear.

Xur's bright eyes widened. Then when he spoke again, his amusement was clear. "You will never find out."

Aro was the one to blink this time. Xur was gone before his eyes were half closed. Kain appeared over his shoulder and shone a dim light into the corner. He was gone. "What was that about?"

Aro opens his mouth. Then he closes it, shaking his head and pushing off the wall.

The bedroom within the dorm he shared with Aro was dark, save for the bright lamp shining over his desk. The windows were closed and the sun, it's light beginning to darken and dim, was blocked out entirely.

Asura took note of the clock; Aro wouldn't be back for some time. Not that it mattered, Aro rarely bothered him while he was here, only checking in from time to time. Asura was never as courteous, looking for any excuse he had to intrude on his alone time but Aro always bore it with good humor, even more so since Venus. Reminded them both that Asura was still here and that he was still Asura.

Asura put his hand to one part of his weapon, of the many scattered before him, and waited. Nothing at first, nothing for some time, as was the case when he tried to start. The silence would stretch on and Asura would wonder, not for the first time, if this was where things ended. Then, it would come to him slowly, like water down a thin channel and towards a lake. A feeling of hesitation and dislike. The kind one would feel when a suggestion was made they did not explicitly feel they wanted. Asura proceeded to move the part under his fingertips off to the side, into a darkened corner of his desk, to be replaced or discarded at a later time.

They would go on like this. Asura would put his attention towards part of a gun, Wrath(A) would accept or reject it, Asura would move to the next and on and on it went. He never knew how many small parts went into building a hand cannon from scratch, how many screws and springs and cylinders. If Spirit wasn't here to help him keep track of everything then he would've misplaced half the weapon by now.

Asura occasionally spoke, to himself or his Ghost. Wrath(A), as had been the case since they left the Sink, never made a sound. He directed every bit of this process without a word and Asura only acted as his...go-between? Middleman? "Puppet" was more appropriate but calling himself that would imply that he wasn't the one in control and he preferred a comfortable lie to the inconvenient truth.

The former Herald didn't speak but he thought and he felt, too deeply for him to hide, though he clearly tried. His feelings were what put Asura on this path in the first place. Wrath(A) had vague memories of a weapon, one he might have had before but could never remember until the other Wrath attempted to change him. Whatever it was, all Asura could tell was that it was extraordinarily important to him. Wrath(A) also thought of Aro and of Hawkmoon. The reason for Hawkmoon was obvious but there was more to it than that. Aro was always there for a reason. Asura couldn't tell why and he couldn't be sure if Wrath(A) was the same or if he just refused to.

Sometimes, he thought of Wrath(K). The person, the Guardian. Not the monster he turned into. When he did, his emotions were pulled in so many different directions; anger and sadness, regret and happiness, but of a dark, morbid kind.

Asura and Wrath(A) were among the few who knew the truth about Praedyth's existence and even among those, two of the only ones to fully accept it; he still found himself correcting the others. Kabr, Pahanin and Praedyth. Indeed, he had some measure of sympathy for Praedyth's plight.

But Praedyth didn't keep him hostage within his own body for months on end. Praedyth didn't force him to try and kill his two best friends. Praedyth never attempted to erase him from reality, revert him into the monster he had been in a previous life. Given their way, both Wraths would have seen him gone the same way as Kabr's Warlock friend. How could he not feel some sadness for him? And how could he feel anything but hate for the both of them? What could they possibly do to warrant his forgiveness?

"There isn't always forgiveness but there is redemption."

Aro's words echoed in his head, words aimed at himself as much as the former Herald. A thought or a memory whose source, Asura was unsure of. Is that what this was meant to be? Give Asura a new weapon he can use in his battles? To defend himself, his team, and his City? Given Wrath(A)'s history, Asura would've been smarter to stop right now, to ignore his pain and longing, lest the first person he turned this new weapon against be someone he cared about. Someone without a Ghost to bring them back, if only just to spite Asura before they put him down for good, like the mad dog he was forced to be.

But every time he wanted to stop, which was often enough, he remembered seeing this stalwart pillar of anger and disdain, for him and for everyone, fall to pieces before the final confrontation with Wrath(K). How sick both of them felt when all the grief and guilt the former Herald had been shoving off for years came rushing back along with the jumbled mess of his memories. How he receded, from control of Asura's body and even from the space they shared within his mind into the darkest corners, curled so tightly into himself, Asura could almost convince himself he had vanished.

So he continued to listen. And when Wrath(A) gave his instruction, Asura obeyed.

"Any news on a shard, Spirit?" The room had been so quiet, his own voice was a shock to his ears.

"None yet," she whispered back.

Asura simply nodded and continued. His eyes turned to the row of chambers, of different sizes and makes. He selected one at random and waited.

Then he moved it over to the accepted pile and went on to the next.

Crona knew about Executor Hideo and Aro. It was hard not to, they weren't exactly secretive about it. Aro was smart but susceptible to flattery and the Executor was more than happy to lay it on. Whether this could be enough to garner the Warlock's support, only time would tell. She wasn't too concerned, though. With the likes of Ikora, the Speaker and even Daniel in his ear, it was unlikely he would fall too deeply to New Monarchy's influence.

Lakshmi-2, however, was not like Hideo. Hideo was forceful and driven to get what he wanted, information included. If he hasn't started pressing Aro for more information on the Vault yet, it was because he was worried about scaring him away. With FWC's representative, Crona felt safe avoiding certain topics; Lakshmi respected when she didn't wish to discuss certain things and would always acquiesce and change the topic, with no hint of frustration or impatience. This comforted Crona and worried her. Made her wonder just how subtle one woman could be and made her second guess every little thing she said, lest she accidentally reveal something she shouldn't.

Lakshmi asked her questions; about the Vex, about the Vault, about Kabr and Pahanin. Told Crona she had tried to discuss the Vault of Glass with Pahanin, the only one to return alive. The man had been barely coherent at the best of times but when she spoke to him, he devolved even further. One episode of his had gotten so bad, he had to be restrained. Ranted on and on about Kabr and something called a Templar and someone named Praedyth. That Lakshmi knew him. That she must remember. She has to try and remember. She didn't. She couldn't. She was sure she never did, even in the face of his break but now, she was unsure.

Lying about Praedyth, claiming she had never heard that name before, had been the hardest thing Crona had done since they returned from Venus and confronted her family.

Towards the end, Lakshmi asked her about her project. The make and model of the Arc conductor she was requesting was rare, so the weapon it would eventually go into would surely be powerful and a thing of beauty. It was enough of something to draw Zavala's attention, Crona had said, so she wouldn't be surprised if it was. It was slow going for now. The list her father had given her wasn't the entire list. There were some things he would find for himself, such as an exotic shard and the base frame for the weapon. The times they had gotten together to discuss it, she noticed his progress but had yet to see the parts. Most likely, he was hiding them, as to not give too much of the weapon away. It made the process slower but Crona didn't mind. She was spending time with him. He was opening up to her. After the turn their relationship took after she returned from the Vault, how closed off he became, the noticeable distance, this was a welcome change.

Crona stepped back out into the Hangar, surprised by the noise after the quiet of the FWC's quarters. The talk had drawn on longer than she had originally planned and after being surrounded by people for the better part of the day, Crona was in the mood for time to herself. In all honesty, she'd be satisfied with some food. After today's lunch, that ramen place was everywhere on her mind. Cayde had a good eye for food, she'd give him that.

She made it halfway through the Hangar until a voice stopped her. She had barely heard it over the cacophony but the voice had always been so low and quiet, she didn't need to hear much to recognize it.

Just like the voice, she hadn't felt the familiar hand on her back for some time now. Just like the voice, she knew it well enough all the same. "How are you, Crona?" Saladin greeted her warmly.

She shrugged under his hand. "Well enough. Hungry, if you're feeling generous."

His chest rumbled with laughter and Crona turned to him when he came up to her side. Lord Saladin out of his armor was a rarity, she could only count on one hand the amount of times she had seen it. He was just as bulky and broad out of it as in it but out of it, his age showed. Dark weather-beaten skin under his grey-flecked stubble, faded scars older than even this Tower traced his hairy forearms and, unbeknownst to most, dark tattoos higher up; drawings of wolves, writings of names.

"Your brother finally contacted me," he said, walking with her the rest of the way out of the Hangar, "I heard about what happened in his home district, or what is still happening."

Crona sighed and her mood soured. "Yeah, I may have spoken to him about it. He's a busy man."

She spoke defensively but Saladin's expression made it clear it was unnecessary. "I trust that he is. Keep an eye on him, Crona. The Consensus isn't known for being very cooperative."

"I will."

The old Titan gestured with his head behind them. "You were leaving Future War Cult's quarters. Meeting with someone there?"

"The rep. Lakshmi-2."

"What about?"

As they stepped together in the main plaza, the sun was dipping below the horizon, most of its light now reflecting off the Traveler's surface and casting towards the City. "Father and I started a project recently. A weapon he pulled from Cryptarch archives. Lakshmi has a key component."

"What about the gunsmith?"

"He directed me to Lakshmi."

"And she's willing to hand it over in exchange for what?" he asked.

"She just wants to talk."

The man rumbled. "She's a politician, Crona. Words are power."

So everyone kept reminding her. Again, it was starting to both worry and annoy her. What was she missing that seemingly no one else was? "We talk about Vex mostly. And the Vault." He stopped in his tracks and she quickly added, "Nothing we've deemed classified though."

"I'd still be careful. I've seen how good they are at figuring out the things you don't say from the things you do." Lord Saladin started walking again but only to move closer to her. "Osiris refused to denounce his little following. Felt them beneath even the most base acknowledgement. Now look where he is…"

"Not here?"

"Exactly."

There was more to why they kept the existence, identities and purpose of the Heralds secret than just the possibility of causing a panic. If someone like Dredgen Yor could develop a following, what could Pride do?

But this wasn't the same. Crona couldn't say so for certain but she could feel it and these people, her father, Saladin, Shaxx, they had been teaching her to listen to her gut much too often to demand she go back on it now.

She gave him an easy, if not cocky, smile. "Me? Exiled? You're getting a bit extreme in your old age, don't you think?"

"Watch yourself, girl," he warned immediately. His tone was deep and threatening but the smile that started down from his eyes to his lips was anything but. She had watched him and Shaxx interact for years, she knew the best buttons to press to annoy him. An annoyed Iron Lord was a relaxed one, Shaxx had told her, during one of the first Iron Banner matches she had been allowed to view with him. He had yet to be proven wrong.

They reach where they were meant to go their separate ways. Crona tells him so, he waves her off and with a mocking "Lord Guardian" farewell and a mocking bow, she does indeed take her leave.

She was halfway to the ramen shop when Sol spoke up. Tells her that an amount of Glimmer had just been deposited into her account, along with a message attached that simply said, "Don't call me old."

She had already begun to craft the thank-you note, mentally running through every age-related taunt she could think of as she walked to join the line at the ramen shop. Sol was only too happy to help with that.

"'Grandpa', I'm thinking 'Grandpa'."

"I don't know. Seems like a 'Senior Citizen' kind of day."

"Smart Ghost, he's going to hate it. Let's open with that…"

Author's note: Gonna take a bit of a break from uploading while I work out more of the story. Hopefully not gone for too long