Last spark from the ashes

"Ancients," she says bemusedly. "Uh. No offense. And Zavala's the Commander." The one she's rather proud of, and all the happier to declare her allegiance to given the conversation they've just been having. Better luck next time, Monarchy, her boss is too smart for you! "I know though, it is pretty confusing at first. Most of the time I still just go along with it."

They're reaching the end of the sky-lighted passage, coming out almost in a corner of the terraced north courtyard. It curves inward, long and thin, hugging the shelter of the tower ahead of them and curling around to stretch out to the left. Their view of the Traveler is mostly hidden by the high walls of a circular observatory built a little bit out from the courtyard.

It feels even more homely than the plaza, here. Indoor spaces have been made simply by throwing up a few shelves in a corner and hanging a canopy above them; beyond the banners strung overhead is a web of lines rigged up for comms or power or both. There are still signs of weaponry, and scars, and a technician stacking shelves with mysterious boxes. But most people seem to be relaxing: strolling, chatting, enjoying the view with a cup of coffee. There's the warm smoky scent of a firepit on the breeze from their left, and animated conversations from the canopied spaces to either side.