rekindledtitan | Excerpt 002: Traveler's Rest

Entry tags:

Excerpt 002: Traveler's Rest

TYPE: Personal log

LOCATION: The Last City, Earth

PARTIES: Three [3]. One [1] Ghost-type, [1] Guardian-type, designate Blaze-37, Class Titan [

rekindledtitan ], One [1] Unconfirmed, designate Willis, Verity [

brave_heart_verity ]; [other parties redacted]

ASSOCIATIONS: Multiversal Nexus; Verity Willis; Earth; The City; Vanguard; Blaze-37; Glass-smiths

An Exo ought to be good at waiting. They're soldier and machine both, trained for stoicism and designed for tireless analysis. Blaze sometimes thinks she’s the only one built who ever gets bored. (Aside from Cayde, maybe, and he makes it sound like he's had a very long time to learn.)

Her patrol concluded without much incident, she paces back to the Forum, guns still dozing at her back and her Ghost zipping curiously from one side to the other ahead of her. It murmurs its observations to her in passing, and she responds gladly. A fight would be better, but she’ll take the idle chatter. Her memory is brimming with new half-processed data, even from one patrol in the Nexus – odd discussions heard and alien kitchens smelt, the weird spiky grass in the park crunching under her boots, so many- one hundred and forty-three new faces since the last trip, ninety-one human by visual-

But she isn’t one for dwelling on things. So she circles the Forum to take in the sights, cutting her route through the spot where she and Verity last spoke to make sure of spotting her friend.

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It really is so much to take in. The shape of the world is familiar, and the people are still people, but so many details are foreign. It's a little unnerving, like falling into the Uncanny Valley sometimes. "Oh. So... Ghost... I'm guessing you don't mean 'raised' like in raising a child because that would take more than a day."

Green banners mean warlocks? She can remember that.

"Heh, no. More like raised from the dead. The first time, I mean, on the day it found me." Ghost gets a fond look at that. Maybe the familial comparison isn't so far off.

Green banners mean the North Tower, according to the writing on the walls. Or at least a passage leading there. At least the people here believe in good signage? The passage also doubles as storage for odd piles of crates, and it's accumulated a few piles of broad red leaves.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Nobody ever taught her the proper etiquette for talking to the formerly deceased, and her condolences are awkward enough under more familiar circumstances. Plus she kinda thought Blaze was a robot.

Good signage is a sign of a good functional society, in her opinion. She approves. She also lingers to look at those leaves, although she doesn't touch them. "What's this?"

She's an undead robot. Sort of? Death is complicated around here.

"Why? Best day of my- well, you know." She laughs heartily. "All Guardians start out like that. It's kinda confusing at first, but you settle in pretty quick." If you're lucky anyway.

Ghost is quicker to answer the question. It's a type of maple, I think. There are a few of them around the Tower."

Further down the passage, in a corner, there's another frame sweeping up the leaves with an old-fashioned broom. Super-advanced robot using a broom. Odd details, indeed.

It's going to take a while for her to get the hang of things around here.

"I mean that you were. Um. Nevermind." Better to keep her friend laughing and happy. Who knows what Blaze is better off not remembering. "So all the Guardians are raised by their Ghosts? And then you work together? It's good you two get along so well."

There's nothing wrong with doing things the old-fashioned way. Trying to reinvent sweeping wouldn't be a super productive use of their time.

"Yeah. It'd be a disaster if you didn't trust your Ghost. It's the one who'll keep you on your feet and teach you what you're doing in this crazy new world."

"Not to boast, but I think I chose rather well." And it can go the other way, but no need to speak of that.

There are a few other doors along the passage, and the farther they go the more people seem to be around, especially civilians. Some are clearly technicians in well-worn jumpsuits; the rest favor warm thick pants and layered clothing, especially scarves draped over their heads and shoulders. Several of them wear red with the white stripe and dashes of the New Monarchy faction. Humans of assorted shape and color and gender make up a rough majority, with the rest split between Exos and Awoken.

She can understand that. It'd be like not trusting a parent and a battlefield partner at the same time. Tragic and dangerous.

"I think you chose very well."

She keeps track of the doors they pass and makes mental notes about the fashion. Thick and warm isn't exactly the fashion where she's from, but it seems a great deal more practical. The scarves are lovely, but she has no idea what the colors mean or that there are political factions. Possibly for the best. She's American and has a deep and abiding distrust of monarchies.

So of course, she has to ask. "What do the red and white scarves mean? There are a lot of people wearing them."

Blaze shakes her head, chuckling. "I'm definitely great at making friends with sweet-talkers."

She glances around at Verity's question, as if taking stock of the numbers. Even one or two Guardians are wearing bits of red and white. "Oh, New Monarchy. They're one of the political factions here. Their basic deal is that they want the City to be ruled by a king or queen."

From her amused tone, she considers this a pretty hare-brained scheme.

"I wonder how you got stuck with me, then." Verity doesn't consider herself 'sweet'. She's never seen much point to it. She's the grown-up version of the little girl who always yanked off Santa's beard.

"Seriously? That's sad. Do you guys remember a little family called the Tudors? Or the Habsburgs? And I'm asking that honestly, because if your historical records don't currently include what happens when royal families get all inbred and crazy then I'm bringing some books next time I visit."

"I have some really awesome luck." And a way more optimistic view of Verity than she has of herself. If Blaze realizes that, she'll have to give her friend a talk.

"Hmm. I don't know them. Ours couldn't be too picky about who they paired up with, though: the only other royal is the Awoken Queen and- uh. That would never happen." She shakes her head - too weird. Just too weird. "Could pick an Exo, of course, but then you get one person holding power for pretty much ever. Same goes for any Guardian, really. Just wouldn't hold up."

"If you say so." Blaze is the undisputed optimist between them and is welcome to the title.

"The Tudors and the Habsburgs were royal families in medieval and Renaissance Europe. The Habsburgs made it to the first world war even. The Tudors went nuts and killed off most of their own relatives, and the Habsburgs were just. Inbred. Distorted features and sometimes impaired mental abilities. Not an ideal situation. But I'm a socialist democrat, I believe in people holding the power, so I'm not inclined to see any form of monarchy as a good thing."

"That Habsburg business just seems cruel to everyone involved," she comments. She gives an amused glance toward a couple of Monarchists diligently transporting a cart of weapon crates. "You know, the word is they asked Zavala to be their king. He turned them down. I asked him about it one time and he just said some people in the City needed to learn their history. You should bring those books. They might help."

"It really was. But I suspect people here have some idea how important genetic diversity is. That wasn't something people understood when cousins were marrying cousins to consolidate political power. Zavala is...? I'm sorry if you've mentioned the name before, it's a lot of new information to take in." And she's not at her best these days.

"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.

"None taken. We all have embarrassing stories in our past." Since they share so much of the past with each other, it'd be hard to escape. "Right. Sorry." Verity will learn these things! At least the important things. The things important to her friends. "Is that an official suggestion to just smile and nod?" She can probably do that.

A good home is often a work in progress. She finds it all charming. The cozy places people put together for themselves make a lot of sense. The firepit's more of a surprise. "Nice. That's a great view."

She has to nod at the mention of embarrassing stories. Those are her ancestors too, just not in the biological sense. "I think of it more as enjoying things as they come."

The fire's down on the lower terrace to their left, under the red hangings where the Monarchy seems to have set up shop. To give them some credit, whatever one thinks of their politics, they haven't slapped posters up or left piles of pamphlets around: there are sofas and cushions and tapestries with their emblem on the upper section, where their representative is talking to people. But some people look like they're just there to hang around the fire and toast snacks.

Blaze slows down for a minute when Verity mentions the view, giving it an appreciative look. "Yeah. It's good to look out and see what you're fighting for. The Traveler still watching over us. Kinda makes it clear how everything fits together."

There's an interesting thread of study in there, about cultural ancestry and what makes a person a member of a group. For another day.

"That, I'm more likely to succeed at." As a tactic, it serves remarkably well in the Nexus. If she couldn't relax enough to enjoy these opportunities presented to her... well, she wouldn't be here, would she? And it seems to be keeping Blaze in good spirits despite everything.

There's a primal urge for humans to gather around the fire. She wonders if Blaze and Ghost feel those urges too. Those Monarchists know what they're about, she'll give them that.

"You're lucky that you can see that so clearly."

"I figured," Blaze says happily. "You're sensible like that." Questioning is reasonable, after all. There's just not much point in worrying about it.

"I know. I mean... how we wound up here, the things we face-" and by the sweep of her hand, she means the city as a whole, not her and Ghost specifically, "that's not so lucky. But for someone like me? For a soldier? I'm damned lucky."

But she picks up the pace again, splashing through a couple of puddles on the tiles. She figures the sooner they drop off that data, the sooner they can really relax. There's an elevator nearby that Ghost has flagged as the quickest route down to the Warlocks' part of the Tower.

"Thank you." Being considered sensible is a high compliment to her. Not worrying isn't always one of her best skills, but she's working on that too.

It really says something about a place when the soldiers feel lucky for having the easy job. Her newfound urges to help people are going to go into overdrive around here. Not that she sees herself as any better or better off, but she might be able to offer the city resources they don't have and that Blaze and Ghost might not think of. Goodness knows they're offering her a kind of help nobody else can.

She's trying to avoid the puddles, but she won't slow things up much. All those long runs with Samus have paid off in that regard. "Do all the soldiers see themselves as the lucky ones? Or is that your own personal kind of optimism?"

"Not sure. We're all lucky to be Guardians, that's for sure." And not only because the alternative is being a corpse in the wilderness somewhere. Her life is a hell of a lot simpler than a civilian's (in some ways, if you don't let the encounters with malevolent metaphysics get to you). Plus, space-magic powers, awesome equipment and a city full of people who think you're a hero.

"The way I see it though," Blaze continues almost idly, "before the Collapse, war always meant humans against their own people." She doesn't care what differences they saw. They're all the people she was built to protect. "Hnh. You probably know what that meant better than I do. What kind of things they did to each other. Some of the dumb reasons they came up with. How many soldiers ever get to truly know they're acting for a good cause? That it's a worthy fight? Not just for land, or money, or because their superiors don't know when to shut up and listen?" She shakes her head. "Can't be many. But I do. I have that, and I'm glad."

"Yeah. I know what people can be like." She's seen what people still try to do to other humans where she's from. It's terrible and a big part of why she spent so long hating everything. "You're right. You are lucky."

She nods solemnly. There's not much to add to that speech. But she trusts Verity's judgment, so it's good to hear her friend concur with her reasoning.

The elevator they step into is pretty spacious, though they're the only passengers for the moment. It's well-lit, too - perhaps the architects wanted to have mercy on any claustrophobes. Blaze doesn't let the silence last any amount of time: bad enough they have to stand in a box for minutes on end.

"Not far now. How's your arm?" she asks, as they start dropping.

Elevators don't bother her. Irrational fears don't do well up against the curse. Another unexpected perk. She'll lean against the back wall, make a mental note of the controls, and then return her attention to her friends.

"It's sore but okay. A little itchy. I'll be sleeping on my right side tonight, but that's not so bad."

"That's good. It looked pretty uncomfortable back there." What does that even feel like, when you have skin? It must be so weird.

The only other passengers they pick up on their way down are a human Titan and a couple of civilians. Blaze exchanges polite nods with them - and in the case of her fellow Guardian, a glance at each other's mark. But the Warlock orders dwell in the upper floors of the Tower, so Verity and Blaze will be the first people to step off, into a wide hall.

Once the doors close behind them it might take their eyes and optics a second to adjust. The ceiling slants downward to the left, and most of the light comes from thin windows, casting bars of bright sunlight across the shadowed room. Down the center are a number of pedestals bearing artifacts or holographic displays. With a thoughtful 'hmh', Blaze shrugs and heads for the end. "At least there's only one door to try."

"It wasn't great, but, better than the alternative." Of course, now that they're talking about it and she's thinking about it, it's hurting more. Great.

The other passengers get polite nods from her as well, but she edges closer to Blaze when the elevator starts filling up. The passage they step out into isn't quite what she was expecting. "It's like a museum." She'll try not to fall behind, but there's a lot of interesting things to look at, even if she doesn't know what half of them are.

"You've never been here before?"

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