Blaze-37 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rekindledtitan) wrote2021-01-25 12:20 am
rekindledtitan) wrote2021-01-25 12:20 am
Entry tags:
Fragment: Dawning Realization
The snow is starting to drift down again, painting over the slick-freezing patches of meltwater, the rucks of churned snow and mud. The scattered armor and the still-smoldering corpse. The alien stars above prick weakly past the warm glow of lantern lights drifting up and away. A solitary point of light descends past them, outshining their glow as the little Ghost returns to his Guardian.
A flicker of shimmering blue light illuminates the snow as he sweeps a scan over the body lying there. Cataloging the damage in a snapshot. Recording the details. The price paid.
Minor abrasions: anterior cranium; right scapular plates.
Superficial burns: face, covering upper mandible and mid-face.
Three (3) inter-plating wounds, non-critical, detailed:
One (1) laceration to anterior throat, fatal, detailed…
Organic contaminant detected: sputum, human-
It takes a moment to see. Another moment to store away in his memory, in the spark of Light at his core. Its twin calls up from the corpse beneath him: he reaches out, kindles it to life again-
Restores.
She sits up in a rush, golden eyes flitting over nothing: he knows once again she’s parsing where and when and who she is. Only a moment. A hand goes to her face, but the warm spatter of contempt is gone: he's already wiped it away. Ghost hovers close, anchored tight by concern as she focuses on him.
“Well,” she says simply, “’least that’s that.”
“...Maybe not.” He tips his shell; her eyes follow his down to a dagger, lying in the snow beside her. It's covered in a pale fluid, catching a shine in the twin glow of their gazes. Blaze pinches the blade between thumb and forefinger as she picks it up. Her brow plates are drawn together.
“She, uh. She really doesn’t listen, does she? I told her this goes no further.” Won’t take the truth for an answer, won’t talk to Steve herself, won’t understand final is final.
“Guess we’ll have to give it back to her.” The blunt matter-of-factness in her tone specifies it’ll be handle-first. They’ve got no further obligation to play along with Amelia’s version of reality.
“Let me store it, Ghost says, and it disappears in a transmat shimmer at her nod. He’ll keep it safe in containment. “Are you… all right?”
“I’m fine, Ghost,” she tells him, of course. “Not the first time I’ve had my throat cut.” She lets out a ‘heh’, adds softly, “Not even the first time it’s been her.”
But this is different, he thinks. The thought aches and grates like rusted wire beneath his shell. Guardians get used to being torn apart, burned, beaten, broken, maimed. But this isn’t the same as fighting a monster for the sake of innocent lives, or a clean fair death in the Crucible, or even the dark dreams she means now. Ghost knows that all violence leaves marks, but all violence isn’t interchangeable.
“You catch much of that?” she asks, looking up at him direct now. Unsure how far away he was hiding.
“No.”
Another nod. Ghost studies her expression: relieved? She pushes to her feet, marches toward the diminished pile of armor nearby. The black parts make a scatter of sharper shadows in the snow. “You didn’t miss much. Steve and Nike?”
“They went back to the Tower a few minutes ago.” He’s known her from the moment of her raising. He’s never heard her say a fight wasn’t worth being there for. “Did you hurt her?”
“Didn’t get a chance. Tossed her around some, set off a steam explosion in proximity- not too close, I guess, I didn’t see any burns. She kinda went to pieces soon as we got up close.”
She unbelts her mark, folds it respectfully before setting it aside. Ghost stares at her back, his points twitching. “…And then she slashed your throat open?”
Blaze shrugs. “Well-“ She lifts the chest-piece, voice muffling a second as she pulls it over her head, “I guess ’having a breakdown’ and ‘violent’ aren’t mutually exclusive.” She stoops, twists round, pulling on greaves, rerebraces, cinching her pauldrons into place. Reassembling the Titan, albeit a little damper.
“Good news is,” she says, hunting down her gauntlets and boots, shaking snow off them, “she wants nothing to do with Steve. Might hassle him anyway, but he can handle himself.” Ghost relaxes a bit. It should be regrettable, another door closing on someone Steve used to care about. Someone who might have been a friend to him again. But after this… Steve has enough dangers to contend with.
There’s no going back to making cocoa and telling stories, a while yet before they have to meet Adia and Caspar. The lights and sounds of the Dawning celebration reflect down the street as they head for Blaze’s preferred bar a block away. It’s quiet, tonight. She steers past the mostly alien clientele to sit at the counter and orders one of the two things on the menu that she’ll drink. Ghost trails along after her.
Her order comes in a thick glass, the liquid inside glowing softly. Ghost doesn’t bother to scan it. Blaze has a few swallows, nurses both the drink and her buzz for a few minutes, deep in her thoughts.
“Are you okay, Ghost?”
His points twitch as he looks up, jolted out of his own ruminations. Where to start? How to give a shape to the things that claw at him? What has he a right to share?
He settles on the guilt. “…We brought Steve to the Tower together. Your decisions were mine, too. If people are angry, we both bear the responsibility, but you’re the one getting hurt.”
“Course I am. I’m your Guardian, remember? That’s what I do.” Her hand closes warm and protective over him, pulling him closer to her chest. “I take the lead, so I take the fire. And there’s no way in the multiverse I’d let you be her next target.” He can feel the warmth rolling gently from her, the fire within burning bright again. The steady whisper of telemetry signals from the sensors in her chestpiece…
“Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about sharing punishment,” Blaze is saying. Sitting on her thoughts has never suited her. Once she’s started talking through them they all come rolling out. “I don’t think that’s what that was, exactly. I mean, that’s what it sounded like. She got hurt and she wanted to knock my head, lay into me for it. Seemed fair to me. Hell, I thought maybe once I’d heard her out she’d even cool off and listen. And you know, I thought… I know what it’s like to be mad at something you can’t do anything about. Sometimes it feels like a fight is the only thing you can win. Even if it’s the wrong one.”
She knocks back the last of her drink, lifts the glass to request another with a frown. “But the way things went out there, none of it sits right. I know it’s Amelia, but that just wasn’t… hey, Ghost, what’s wrong?”
He’s moved away from her, folded in on himself and looking into space. It takes him a minute. “I pulled the audio telemetry from your armor.”
The armor. The armor left sitting ignored and nearby In the darkness as she chased Amelia through her wall of fire. “Oh. Shit. How much did it, uh-?”
“There’s… there’s enough.” The points of his shell are trembling. “The way she talks to you- and…” Blaze leans over him anxiously as he struggles with his words. To process it. To contain himself.
“She talks about Steve as if he’s not even a person.” He can hear his voice shaking. “As if he’s… some thing that belonged to her. She… she doesn’t even care what he would have wanted, or if he wants to find out where he comes from, or what he’s feeling! All… all she talks about is how she’s entitled to know about him. She- she never even asks if he wanted that. And she acts as- as if she’s the only one who- as if we didn’t care about him just as much!”
He shuts his stuttering outburst off, shuddering with a weight of unfamiliar emotion. He’s always the quiet one, the subtle one, the careful word to Blaze’s full-throated challenge. Her eyes don’t leave him as she sits back, lifting a hand for him to bump against for comfort. The barkeeper ventures close enough to set down her order, then beats a hasty slither elsewhere.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Blaze’s voice is rarely so soft. “Amelia wants him hidden away from her, but you’ve been there every single day, watching over him. Keeping it all in, never saying a word. Watching him be someone new.”
“We- we all have,” he points out, quiet with embarrassment. “You, and Thor…”
“Ain’t the same, though. He meant so much to us, but he and you… if you had any more of a connection I’d have been out of a job.” It’s the wrong time to joke, she sees that as soon as he flexes in alarm, and she closes her fingers over him with a low sound of reassurance.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m kidding.” Mostly. “But if I’d gone first, and you survived… he’d have been the right choice, is all I’m trying to say.” There was a time not long ago when she was sure it would end that way, and if not for Steve… She strokes Ghost’s shell with her thumb, feeling his Light flutter against her palm even through the hardened mesh. “I can’t weigh what Amelia’s feeling; I don’t know her that way. But we both know she’s not the only one whose heart got broken.”
“…He was my second friend, ” he whispers finally, lost for the words to encapsulate all of what he’s feeling, the unspoken truth she’s finally called out.
“First one you didn’t dig up yourself,” she agrees- teasing a little, but it matters. The first friend not bound to him by shared destiny. She was still new when they met Steve. Much less sociable. No fireteam to run with, so new to patrolling populated zones or meeting anyone outside the Tower besides a fellow Guardian - or a hostile alien.
The memory crowds in on her readily: Ghost as he was then, a terminally shy presence at her side, focused so intently on his Guardian alone. He’s gotten quieter since the Fallen took him, quieter again since Steve died. But he’s never gone back to that.
“Kaolin, the others… they were kind. They were my friends because they were yours-” all that mattered to an anxious Ghost protective of their new Guardian, “but Steve made friends with me.”
“You made friends with him,” she points out, slugging her drink.
“...He saw me differently. Not just as your Ghost. Of course he didn’t really know what a Ghost was anyway, but…” She nods; he doesn’t need to explain it to her. “...When I found you, I wasn’t alone for the first time in centuries. You were the end of my Nightmare. But Steve… was something else. He was… special.” Utterly inadequate. Steve was something he doesn’t have the words for. Something he never tried to examine and now it’s too late. Now Steve is another man, one who has a Ghost and it’s not right to say anything, it’s not right to want to get close…
“He carried the Light,” Blaze says solemnly. She pulls her hand back and pokes Ghost gently, snapping him out of it. “Hey. Remember the picture? Get it out for a minute, would you?”
It’s tucked lovingly into the most secure compartment on their ship. Ghost pulls it into the air between them with the whisk of a transmat, and Blaze takes off a gauntlet to unfold it with care. It’s a page out of a sketchbook, pencil lines in a familiar hand. Ghost drifts close to study it with her. The drawing shows two people: a blonde woman in uniform, confident, direct, ready to go toe-to-toe with the world; and behind her, hand on her sleeve, a shorter man. He’s slightly built, half hidden by his companion, but there’s presence in his curious expression as he looks around them, the touch that could be asking reassurance as easily as lending guidance.
“…Steve was always real good at seeing people for who they were.” She can’t help the wry tone. He called this one better than he could have known. “Remember, the man who drew this isn’t gone as long as we honor his example. Keep his legacy alive. And we're gonna do that for him.”
“...Of course we will. We... made a promise.” He's trying to reassure himself. They never back down from their duty. At least… his Titan never would. He has to ask himself if he can really live up to the same. For now, Ghost huddles closer to her, away from the hollow ache he feels. Blaze shifts her arm, making a nook for him while she drinks and he absorbs himself in pencil lines and memories. A respite before the next battle.
He can’t help wondering how Steve would draw them now.
A flicker of shimmering blue light illuminates the snow as he sweeps a scan over the body lying there. Cataloging the damage in a snapshot. Recording the details. The price paid.
Minor abrasions: anterior cranium; right scapular plates.
Superficial burns: face, covering upper mandible and mid-face.
Three (3) inter-plating wounds, non-critical, detailed:
- Puncture, left rear abdomen, above existing scar, penetration to depth…
- Puncture, right clavicle above plating, penetration…
- Puncture, upper left throat…
- Puncture, right clavicle above plating, penetration…
- Puncture, upper left throat…
One (1) laceration to anterior throat, fatal, detailed…
Organic contaminant detected: sputum, human-
It takes a moment to see. Another moment to store away in his memory, in the spark of Light at his core. Its twin calls up from the corpse beneath him: he reaches out, kindles it to life again-
Restores.
She sits up in a rush, golden eyes flitting over nothing: he knows once again she’s parsing where and when and who she is. Only a moment. A hand goes to her face, but the warm spatter of contempt is gone: he's already wiped it away. Ghost hovers close, anchored tight by concern as she focuses on him.
“Well,” she says simply, “’least that’s that.”
“...Maybe not.” He tips his shell; her eyes follow his down to a dagger, lying in the snow beside her. It's covered in a pale fluid, catching a shine in the twin glow of their gazes. Blaze pinches the blade between thumb and forefinger as she picks it up. Her brow plates are drawn together.
“She, uh. She really doesn’t listen, does she? I told her this goes no further.” Won’t take the truth for an answer, won’t talk to Steve herself, won’t understand final is final.
“Guess we’ll have to give it back to her.” The blunt matter-of-factness in her tone specifies it’ll be handle-first. They’ve got no further obligation to play along with Amelia’s version of reality.
“Let me store it, Ghost says, and it disappears in a transmat shimmer at her nod. He’ll keep it safe in containment. “Are you… all right?”
“I’m fine, Ghost,” she tells him, of course. “Not the first time I’ve had my throat cut.” She lets out a ‘heh’, adds softly, “Not even the first time it’s been her.”
But this is different, he thinks. The thought aches and grates like rusted wire beneath his shell. Guardians get used to being torn apart, burned, beaten, broken, maimed. But this isn’t the same as fighting a monster for the sake of innocent lives, or a clean fair death in the Crucible, or even the dark dreams she means now. Ghost knows that all violence leaves marks, but all violence isn’t interchangeable.
“You catch much of that?” she asks, looking up at him direct now. Unsure how far away he was hiding.
“No.”
Another nod. Ghost studies her expression: relieved? She pushes to her feet, marches toward the diminished pile of armor nearby. The black parts make a scatter of sharper shadows in the snow. “You didn’t miss much. Steve and Nike?”
“They went back to the Tower a few minutes ago.” He’s known her from the moment of her raising. He’s never heard her say a fight wasn’t worth being there for. “Did you hurt her?”
“Didn’t get a chance. Tossed her around some, set off a steam explosion in proximity- not too close, I guess, I didn’t see any burns. She kinda went to pieces soon as we got up close.”
She unbelts her mark, folds it respectfully before setting it aside. Ghost stares at her back, his points twitching. “…And then she slashed your throat open?”
Blaze shrugs. “Well-“ She lifts the chest-piece, voice muffling a second as she pulls it over her head, “I guess ’having a breakdown’ and ‘violent’ aren’t mutually exclusive.” She stoops, twists round, pulling on greaves, rerebraces, cinching her pauldrons into place. Reassembling the Titan, albeit a little damper.
“Good news is,” she says, hunting down her gauntlets and boots, shaking snow off them, “she wants nothing to do with Steve. Might hassle him anyway, but he can handle himself.” Ghost relaxes a bit. It should be regrettable, another door closing on someone Steve used to care about. Someone who might have been a friend to him again. But after this… Steve has enough dangers to contend with.
There’s no going back to making cocoa and telling stories, a while yet before they have to meet Adia and Caspar. The lights and sounds of the Dawning celebration reflect down the street as they head for Blaze’s preferred bar a block away. It’s quiet, tonight. She steers past the mostly alien clientele to sit at the counter and orders one of the two things on the menu that she’ll drink. Ghost trails along after her.
Her order comes in a thick glass, the liquid inside glowing softly. Ghost doesn’t bother to scan it. Blaze has a few swallows, nurses both the drink and her buzz for a few minutes, deep in her thoughts.
“Are you okay, Ghost?”
His points twitch as he looks up, jolted out of his own ruminations. Where to start? How to give a shape to the things that claw at him? What has he a right to share?
He settles on the guilt. “…We brought Steve to the Tower together. Your decisions were mine, too. If people are angry, we both bear the responsibility, but you’re the one getting hurt.”
“Course I am. I’m your Guardian, remember? That’s what I do.” Her hand closes warm and protective over him, pulling him closer to her chest. “I take the lead, so I take the fire. And there’s no way in the multiverse I’d let you be her next target.” He can feel the warmth rolling gently from her, the fire within burning bright again. The steady whisper of telemetry signals from the sensors in her chestpiece…
“Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about sharing punishment,” Blaze is saying. Sitting on her thoughts has never suited her. Once she’s started talking through them they all come rolling out. “I don’t think that’s what that was, exactly. I mean, that’s what it sounded like. She got hurt and she wanted to knock my head, lay into me for it. Seemed fair to me. Hell, I thought maybe once I’d heard her out she’d even cool off and listen. And you know, I thought… I know what it’s like to be mad at something you can’t do anything about. Sometimes it feels like a fight is the only thing you can win. Even if it’s the wrong one.”
She knocks back the last of her drink, lifts the glass to request another with a frown. “But the way things went out there, none of it sits right. I know it’s Amelia, but that just wasn’t… hey, Ghost, what’s wrong?”
He’s moved away from her, folded in on himself and looking into space. It takes him a minute. “I pulled the audio telemetry from your armor.”
The armor. The armor left sitting ignored and nearby In the darkness as she chased Amelia through her wall of fire. “Oh. Shit. How much did it, uh-?”
“There’s… there’s enough.” The points of his shell are trembling. “The way she talks to you- and…” Blaze leans over him anxiously as he struggles with his words. To process it. To contain himself.
“She talks about Steve as if he’s not even a person.” He can hear his voice shaking. “As if he’s… some thing that belonged to her. She… she doesn’t even care what he would have wanted, or if he wants to find out where he comes from, or what he’s feeling! All… all she talks about is how she’s entitled to know about him. She- she never even asks if he wanted that. And she acts as- as if she’s the only one who- as if we didn’t care about him just as much!”
He shuts his stuttering outburst off, shuddering with a weight of unfamiliar emotion. He’s always the quiet one, the subtle one, the careful word to Blaze’s full-throated challenge. Her eyes don’t leave him as she sits back, lifting a hand for him to bump against for comfort. The barkeeper ventures close enough to set down her order, then beats a hasty slither elsewhere.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Blaze’s voice is rarely so soft. “Amelia wants him hidden away from her, but you’ve been there every single day, watching over him. Keeping it all in, never saying a word. Watching him be someone new.”
“We- we all have,” he points out, quiet with embarrassment. “You, and Thor…”
“Ain’t the same, though. He meant so much to us, but he and you… if you had any more of a connection I’d have been out of a job.” It’s the wrong time to joke, she sees that as soon as he flexes in alarm, and she closes her fingers over him with a low sound of reassurance.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m kidding.” Mostly. “But if I’d gone first, and you survived… he’d have been the right choice, is all I’m trying to say.” There was a time not long ago when she was sure it would end that way, and if not for Steve… She strokes Ghost’s shell with her thumb, feeling his Light flutter against her palm even through the hardened mesh. “I can’t weigh what Amelia’s feeling; I don’t know her that way. But we both know she’s not the only one whose heart got broken.”
“…He was my second friend, ” he whispers finally, lost for the words to encapsulate all of what he’s feeling, the unspoken truth she’s finally called out.
“First one you didn’t dig up yourself,” she agrees- teasing a little, but it matters. The first friend not bound to him by shared destiny. She was still new when they met Steve. Much less sociable. No fireteam to run with, so new to patrolling populated zones or meeting anyone outside the Tower besides a fellow Guardian - or a hostile alien.
The memory crowds in on her readily: Ghost as he was then, a terminally shy presence at her side, focused so intently on his Guardian alone. He’s gotten quieter since the Fallen took him, quieter again since Steve died. But he’s never gone back to that.
“Kaolin, the others… they were kind. They were my friends because they were yours-” all that mattered to an anxious Ghost protective of their new Guardian, “but Steve made friends with me.”
“You made friends with him,” she points out, slugging her drink.
“...He saw me differently. Not just as your Ghost. Of course he didn’t really know what a Ghost was anyway, but…” She nods; he doesn’t need to explain it to her. “...When I found you, I wasn’t alone for the first time in centuries. You were the end of my Nightmare. But Steve… was something else. He was… special.” Utterly inadequate. Steve was something he doesn’t have the words for. Something he never tried to examine and now it’s too late. Now Steve is another man, one who has a Ghost and it’s not right to say anything, it’s not right to want to get close…
“He carried the Light,” Blaze says solemnly. She pulls her hand back and pokes Ghost gently, snapping him out of it. “Hey. Remember the picture? Get it out for a minute, would you?”
It’s tucked lovingly into the most secure compartment on their ship. Ghost pulls it into the air between them with the whisk of a transmat, and Blaze takes off a gauntlet to unfold it with care. It’s a page out of a sketchbook, pencil lines in a familiar hand. Ghost drifts close to study it with her. The drawing shows two people: a blonde woman in uniform, confident, direct, ready to go toe-to-toe with the world; and behind her, hand on her sleeve, a shorter man. He’s slightly built, half hidden by his companion, but there’s presence in his curious expression as he looks around them, the touch that could be asking reassurance as easily as lending guidance.
“…Steve was always real good at seeing people for who they were.” She can’t help the wry tone. He called this one better than he could have known. “Remember, the man who drew this isn’t gone as long as we honor his example. Keep his legacy alive. And we're gonna do that for him.”
“...Of course we will. We... made a promise.” He's trying to reassure himself. They never back down from their duty. At least… his Titan never would. He has to ask himself if he can really live up to the same. For now, Ghost huddles closer to her, away from the hollow ache he feels. Blaze shifts her arm, making a nook for him while she drinks and he absorbs himself in pencil lines and memories. A respite before the next battle.
He can’t help wondering how Steve would draw them now.
Hours Later, at the Tower
Ghost will be able to trace Siri and Steve to a different part of the barracks where Nike stays. It's used more for storage than it is a home but someone eventually noticed that the pseudo-warlock serving under Blaze-37 didn't have her own assigned quarters. Once it was pointed out Nike got her own place despite her insistence on not needing one.
The titan and his ghost are just in the process of leaving her quarters when Blaze and Ghost touch down...
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"Steve! There you are." Ghost appears beside her, glancing over Steve and Siri uncertainly as she talks. "You had us a little worried when you left early. Everything all right?"
Siri said he was fine, Ghost would have dragged her back a lot sooner if he wasn't, but... it was his first Dawning. She wants it to have gone well, even if she and Ghost weren't keeping watch.
no subject
But Steve shakes his head with a sigh.
"No, I'm fine. Meeting folks who knew the guy on the big screen was pretty intense but. Nothing you hadn't warned us about."
"It's Nike." Siri chips in as she swoops in front of Steve from where she'd been lingering back by the door to the warlock's room. "Maybe all the people was too much for her, but she was a mess when we found her."
"She handles the crowds at the Tower fine. She's not delicate." Steve counters but shrugs after. He's got no idea what upset the demon so much. "She was...having a rough time though. So we decided to call it an early night."
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She looks from Siri, to Steve, to the door, tensing with concern (and a little trepidation, given how her night's been going). What the hell could have happened?
"I, uh. I'd better check on her," she says, dragging her attention back to Steve. "You two did good bringing her back. Just one thing I've got to talk to you about first."
Speaking of people who knew him Before. Better to do this now. "You met a woman called Amelia earlier. Dark hair, dresses like a Hunter, carries knives?
no subject
"I can't make heads or tails of her vitals considering half of what should be there isn't. But she calmed down enough to fly us into the tower and make it back here fine, so that's something." Siri bobs in confirmation when Blaze's gaze sweeps to her.
"Which one was Amelia?" Steve frowns thoughtfully for a second or two but the description is good enough to bring a face back to mind. "Oh. Yeah we did. Did she have a lot of questions? She wanted to know a bunch of stuff I couldn't answer so I told her you knew more about it than I did."
Siri doesn't speak up on the subject of Amelia but she watches both Ghost and Blaze carefully. Out of everyone they met tonight, the dark haired woman wasn't the first individual she would have gone out of her way to warn them about. Unless maybe she's in with that Loki guy.
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"Not questions, exactly. She..." Is there something else she ought to say here? A gentler way to break this? Blaze hesitates under all three of their gazes. "She's decided she doesn't want further contact with you. Nothing you did, just. That's the way it is."
Ghost shifts to look at Steve, gauging his reaction to that. As far as the young Guardian is concerned, Amelia is just an acquaintance: in theory, that might not matter to him much. But it has to be strange, to be pre-emptively rejected by someone you barely know for something you can't control.
no subject
That's pretty direct. Steve looks Blaze over, but there's no sign of the damage that had been done to his fireteam leader. Ghost was painstaking and fastidious as ever in putting the titan back together. She looks fine, if not a bit uncomfortable about the subject of the message she's no doubt been bidden to deliver. As far as Steve knows, this is everything there is to the story.
So he nods slowly, bringing his arms up to cross in front of his chest as a thoughtful frown creases his face.
"I guess we expected that from some of the folks in the Nexus, right? I uh...hope she wasn't a close friend of you lot Before." If they've all been put Out because of Steve. His nod is slow. Resigned, but not hesitant to be given. He even smiles when he catches Ghost peering at him with abject worry. "Don't worry about me. I remember all the talks we had before the Dawning. This was bound to happen. I can respect her wish easily enough."
Amelia isn't someone from the Tower, not someone Steve will have to brush shoulders with on the regular. It doesn't seem so complicated to keep an eye out for a dark haired Not-Hunter and give her a respectable berth. He can't grieve over a burned bridge he never knew existed in the first place.
Better to try for reassuring where his fireteam is concerned. "I met at least another old? Friend? I think. While I was there. And that seemed to go over pretty well." So not everyone took it poorly!
"I don't think Loki counts." Siri interjects sharply but Steve's shaking his head.
"Oh no, not him. Adia."
"Oh, right." She did seem nice enough. Not someone to treat as a threat. "We Did meet Loki though. A Loki at least. Claimed to be Thor's brother, not a friend, but not an enemy either. Also there's several of him. All but told me to be wary." Siri turns back partway to Steve but he predictably doesn't seem terribly bothered about it. Thor is a friend and it's just that simple where the Titan is concerned. Siri's not so sold.
"Should we be worried about him?"
no subject
“No, we weren’t really… friends.” Case in point. “Seems like I underestimated how close she was to the other guy, though. That should be the end of it anyway. Just keep it in mind if you run into her.”
Even Ghost relaxes, bobbing sheepishly at the direct reassurance. He’s about to add a message to Siri when Steve brings up another old friend- Ghost can’t help looking wary until the pair of them name names. He can’t imagine Adia not being kind, though, and Loki… is at least what official terminology designates a ‘known unknown’.
“Oh, Loki.” Who would probably be a little disappointed if he heard how casually Blaze echoes his name, almost relieved. It's been a long night when Loki feels like the least of your problems. “Yeah, he’s trouble. Potential trouble, anyway. There’s some intel on him in the files, but long story short: he’s Thor’s brother, all right. Went and invaded Earth with an alien army a few years back, and your- uh, the other guy met Thor when they teamed up to stop him.” She folds her own arms, frowning in recollection.
“I never really understood how things worked between them. All I know is Thor trusts him enough to let him run loose, and the other guy didn’t rate it a major threat. As for us- I don’t trust him, but I also kinda owe him. And we’ve got a debt of honor to help keep watch over his kids.” Which might explain certain deviations in the patrol routes Ghost forwarded to them, when Steve and Siri come to take their turn there. Blaze gives a thoughtful ‘hrmm’.
“Worrying’s a lot of work. I’d say leave that to the commander, heh. Just be alert. Think of Loki like…” she waves a hand, “like the Reef Awoken. He might be an ally, or he might decide he’s got some arcane bone to pick so now he’s gonna chase you around with a fully loaded attack craft, but mostly it probably isn’t in his interest to start anything. Just don’t go taking gifts or making promises around him.”
She pauses, frowning again. “I didn’t know there’s really more than one of him, though. That could be tricky. Guess Kaolin just won another bet.”
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"They must have had their reasons." Steve counters. He glances aside at Blaze when she mentions a debt. "And I've got no problem with keeping children safe. His son was nothing but charming, not some kind of monster-let roaming the plaza."
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Her gaze drops to Steve as he tugs Siri down. Blaze gives a slow nod as a mental gear turns into place.
"Exactly. They're just kids. Probably won't hurt if one of us gets along with them, either," she adds off-handedly. She's kept a studious distance from the children herself: better have someone on the team who can handle any diplomacy as requited. "We're keeping an eye on the situation."
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"I guess you're right...I'd rather not go making wars with the Nexus when we've got enough of one right here." But she's going to have her optic on Thor's brother, so help her.
"Thank the Traveler." Steve sighs softly. No one's going to go charging anyone else down picking fights with people they've just met. "I guess I don't mind kids. Never really met one before Agnarr but he was pretty cute. And well, better me than Nike." Steve doesn't see that going any kind of well.
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She pulls her focus back to Steve, and Blaze pulls herself a little straighter. Her hands drop to her sides, fingers brushing against the mark at her hip. "We can tell you more about Loki later. There's... hn, something I ought to talk to you about before I check on Nike."
Blaze doesn't draw breath, but the weight of her glowing gaze seems to intensify as she gathers herself. Ghost blinks uncertainly, shoots her a sidelong look as she speaks. "I think I've done you a disservice, Steve, and I owe you an apology."
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It's not often Blaze gets this serious about much of anything. He's certainly not expecting what follows the moment of silence to be followed by an apology of all things.
"Uh. How's that?" Ghost doesn't seem to know what's up, and a quick glance at Siri says she's equally as lost. Steve shakes his head slowly. "I don't see how you do, but...alright. What's uh...what's going on?"
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The glow of her eyes drops for a moment as she works out how she ought to phrase this, lifts again to look Steve in the eye. "Some of them reckon they'd have been happier with some forewarning about you. I figured we had no business spreading information about you to a bunch of strangers- but I didn't ask you about it either, and I should have. It ought to have been your call, not my assumption. I apologize for that."
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Best not to linger on what might have happened.
"I'm doing my best." He replies quietly. He listens to the rest without saying anything more at first. He doesn't understand, at first, but he tries to think through this as best he can.
"But...none of you had any way of knowing if I'd have even been meant to be found by a ghost. If not Siri, maybe not ever. I-I get that I'm something of an oddity, but...I could have just as easily been dead for...for good, right? He?" Steve makes a small noise of irritation and shakes his head.
"Plus, I don't remember any of them. I couldn't have exactly told you who would need a memo. The people closest to...to him. They agreed." He's been assured of that already. Several times. "I don't much like the idea of having a PSA blare out through the Nexus announcing my being alive much more than I like watching my own face tell me how the Nexus works."
It's all messy. No option sounds good to his ears.
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She nods slowly. It's mostly as she assumed, by herself, and she can't help the reassuring sense of vindication she feels. Has to remind herself that that doesn't excuse her choices.
"That's why neither of us would have said a word without your say-so. We knew some of his friends. There's, uh. Maybe someone else we should have talked to back when we brought him here. But once you were Risen, your past is your business. No-one's entitled to anything you don't want to share."
On that, at least, she will remain adamant. Blaze struggles internally for another moment - there is more to this, she could say that they could have sent private messages, urged certain people to secrecy - but it's not fair to put that on him to adjudge. Especially not after the choice has been made for him. Absolving her - or not - isn't his burden.
"This shouldn't be your problem to handle," she assures him instead. "What's done is done. Any issues they've got now are between me and them. I just wanted to... set it straight, I suppose. That you get first and final say when it comes to how we handle this."
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Siri circles closer after a moment.
"I don't think Blaze means Now, anyway. You're bound to learn more especially if we go back to the Nexus. But you're not bound to have to go on repeating all of it if you don't want to."
Steve nods slowly. To both of them.
"I wish My past didn't have to make you enemies, Blaze. But...there's no helping it I suppose." It's not easy to swallow though.
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She and Amelia didn't get along before, and now they still don't. In that sense, nothing's been lost.
"All you need to focus on is who you choose to be," Ghost agrees, quiet but emphatic.
"And like Siri says, you don't have to give everyone your background profile. Everyone's got their secrets. Plenty of stuff even I don't tell most people, and I'm lousy at keeping things to myself."
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If he can face the numerous enemies the city has, he can face down a few unsatisfied people in the Nexus. Steve's not about to let the echoes of a past he has no access to keep him from doing good work in the Nexus.
"Right. Make my own path or something to that effect." Steve's not really sure how to do that but he's glad to have his fireteam backing him up every step of the way. "It's fine. I'm fine for tonight. Honestly, if I hadn't run into you or Nike I'd have thought everything went pretty well." There's not much more to do tonight than scrounge up something to eat that isn't dessert and then maybe clean his gear before he tries to sleep. Even if he thought Blaze might be interested in joining him for a meal, she's got more important things to worry about right now.
"Make sure you both get some rest too, alright?" He's talking more to Ghost than to Blaze here. Steve knows which of them is more apt to even try to take that advice.
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"You know, I think I ought to talk to Nike by myself." In the way of people here, Blaze tends to think of Guardian and Ghost as a single unit: there's no more weight, to her, if a Ghost is present in a personal discussion. But she's been doing a lot of thinking, these past couple weeks, on how to have a talk with the terminally self-effacing angel, and she suspects Nike might be as shy of Ghost as of her.
Ghost looks surprised. "Are you sure...?"
"Go on, give these two a hand with anything they need. I'll call if I need you. Or when we're done." The look she shoots him is warm, if brief. "Have a good night, Steve. Siri."
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Siri's eyeing Blaze a bit at the insinuation that she couldn't Handle whatever Steve needs, but she flits her points as if to shrug a second later before leading the trio off for the evening.
The door Blaze stands in front of is simple and unadorned with any kind of hanging sign or knickknack outside the living quarters. She'll get no response if she knocks at the door, but it hasn't been locked just yet. Explaining to Nike that these quarters are Her Property has been an uphill battle. She only acquiesced at all on the condition it be put to some sort of practical use, so it stores much of the gear Steve and Blaze collect aside from the spare weapons they're required to keep locked up in the vault.
Patrol beacons, toolboxes, some boxed up belongings of Steve and Natasha's that the group hasn't had the heart to give away or sell just yet--all of it sits neat and orderly along every spare inch of storage space in this dormitory. Nike's own gear is tucked into her small closet. As she has no Ghost she has no access to the vault proper so her weapons have been carefully arranged in a weapons locker taken from
Steve's housethe Guardian base inside the Nexus. Her robes and combat gear have already been hung up for the evening.When not on duty Nike prefers to go barefooted and wear the dress Blaze made for her out of titan marks. There are red marks on her normally flawless face from her tears, though she isn't crying any longer when Blaze lets herself in. She's seated perfectly still at the foot of her bed with an empty mug in her hands. Her shoulders are slumped with a fatigue she doesn't often carry.
It takes her a moment even to notice Blaze is there, but when the Exo inevitably speaks Nike jerks her head up to meet Blaze's gaze.
"....I'm sorry, did you try to message me?" She hasn't even taken her PINpoint out of her gear. And of course, she hasn't been Summoned. Not even her own thoughts could make her fail to hear that kind of a call. Then again, Blaze has never been very good at summoning her in a traditional way. "Has it gotten that late already, or did you come back early...?"
She hopes Steve didn't send for Blaze on her behalf.
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"Is it okay if I come in?" She watches Nike startle, and wonders at how preoccupied the angel must be not to have noticed her approach. She doesn't look okay, herself - face reddened, posture all wrong... it's not the Nike Blaze is used to seeing.
She's not entirely sure if that's good or bad.
"No, we just got back. Had some business come up." And they weren't sticking around to celebrate late, but that's not Nike's concern. "Steve let us know you were... something was up." She sweeps a look around the room before it lands on the angel again, in her somewhat makeshift dress. "...You want to talk about it?"
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"Talk?" Blaze doesn't Do talks. Not ones that aren't patrol routes or mission plans or hastily crafted on-the-fly plans for when something doesn't turn out the way she thought it would. Neither she or Blaze are qualified for this sort of thing. Something squeezes painfully at her as she recollects her shameful outburst at the festival. Her jaw tics.
"I. I jeopardized our mission tonight in the Nexus. I should give Aegis and Tarana a full apology for that later. Tomorrow, once they're back."
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She nods, pulls the door shut behind her as she steps into the room fully. Not coming close, since Nike hasn't given her permission. Not yet. But trying to mind her privacy.
"Easy, there. I haven't heard reports of you jeopardizing anything." She's not going to try and remind Nike how trivial the Dawning celebration is, as missions go. Nike took it seriously, that's what matters. "I'm not worried about the mission. Sounded more like you were the one in jeopardy. I want to know if you're- how you're feeling. What happened out there?"
She's learning. Trying not to let Nike just insist she's fine without digging any deeper.
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"Of...of course." She steps aside and gestures to the spartan quarters. "Sit wherever you like if it suits you." She's been enough of a poor host for one night. "You...ought to be. We had several critical level threats in attendance." The angel drops her gaze to the floor. "My being there. In the Nexus. Poses a substantial risk."
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She's listening, while she does, leaning forward with her arms on her knees. "There's a lot of potentially dangerous beings in the Nexus. I could probably stand to learn more about them, but-" This isn't the main point, wait. She studies Nike with a troubled frown, as if she could maybe figure out what's going through the angel's head from outside.
"Your being there?" Well, it took a whole minute, but she's lost. "Could you explain how?"
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an ordera...request. That's something to latch on to.Something familiar that's well worth forcing herself to retrace her steps and get reluctant words out past her lips. The angel bows her head and summons her wings as if to make a point.
"I'm a demon. We both know that I am...different. From your mortal civilians, from the Guardians, from most species who frequent the Nexus." Facts. She can cling to the facts and strangle her emotions into order. Order is what she is. Order is neat and tidy and blissfully empty. Nike's voice steadies even as it loses its affectations. "I am from the lowest order of Justice dominion creatures. Thus it stands to reason that there should be others like me who are much more powerful, powerful enough to rival gods. Other creatures of Order. Or of Chaos."
"There are others. Not from my world but of a similar nature. Angels of the house of Order. Fallen from the house of Chaos. They are old and powerful in ways mankind cannot fathom. They have noticed me for what I am. I tried to hide, I tried to disengage but at every turn their curiosity over my being could not be swayed. They pretend to be on equal footing with people in the Nexus to suit their whimsy, but if anyone upset them they could wipe out everything in the Nexus. Perhaps not the place itself, but the people who frequent and call it home...certainly."
Facts are simpler than people. Nike can't keep hiding behind them for long though. She has to get to the part of why her actions endangered them but for just this moment she wants to be free from all senseless extraneous influx of data. Even if a jagged whisper creeps in and reminds her that this is Proof she'll never fit in among the people she's come to care so deeply for. That she's proving her wailing at Lucifer to be correct by sitting here hiding behind the mask of Order just to have a simple conversation.
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She hadn't really thought ahead to how many of them there might be, or what would happen if Nike encountered them.
"...The reports said something about a cabal of angel types- angelic? - in the Nexus. I saw a couple in the crowd, but you'd have a better read than us on their threat level. You think they're that powerful?" Her fingers drum restlessly on her knee plates, small sparks flying as she lines up the pieces. "And they've been setting sights on you?"
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"One of them is..." Nike swallows. She's afraid to speak his name, as if it might summon him or draw one of his infinite eyes to this world. "He is very powerful. He claims nothing but peace to the Nexus but he cannot be trusted to honor this. Lucifer is....he does not understand mortals. He does not understand life on this scale. He does not understand a lack of power. I...should not have tried to reason with him. But I did. And he did not understand." Nike shakes her head.
"I tried to give him the respect his power demands but he insisted he did not want it. He actually asked me why I was afraid. As if he couldn't fathom why a mote of dust would fear being Seen by the sun itself. We are to....take his word that he wouldn't harm the people of the Nexus." Nike clutches at her own arms as tightly as she can.
"So I either play along with his whims or I risk everything in the Nexus by upsetting him."
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She shuts up and listens, instead, attention held by Nike's building distress. And it's not a predicament she can instantly grasp, with a less visceral grasp of the cosmic power involved. With all the cavalier bravery of the immortal on her side.
But the quiet terror in Nike's voice, her description of helplessness in the face of overwhelming destruction, strikes at a shard of something deep within her and resonates, aches like long-buried shrapnel. And another part of her, bright and closer to the surface, responds without thinking to lean forward and close her hands on the angel's arms.
"Hey. Hey, the Nexus was still there when I left, so you must have handled it." There's a flicker of heat in her voice, a touch of the anger starting to smolder within. "Did he hurt you?"
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They supply the belief all such beings of the Collective Unconscious need to exist but still....
"I didn't...." She's caught off guard by the embrace. So similar to the one Lucifer had tried to wrap her up in. Given freely by the only person Nike has ever cared to impress. "I didn't handle it. I broke down and started crying." She hates herself with every fiber of her being to have to admit to that. "N...no. He does not wish to hurt me. I amuse him. He wishes me to be his companion." Even though Nike is terrified of him in turn. Lucifer cannot seem to understand why. "H...he embraced me and pitied me when I caused a scene."
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She's not pulling Nike into her own arms, yet- she's been doing a lot of thinking on the angel's unwillingness to voice her own wants - but her careful grasp is warm and earnestly meant. An easier response to give than knowing what to say to Nike's self-recrimination. "It's okay, Nike. Everyone's got a breaking point. I don't even know what I would have done if..." How can she even compare it? "So this incredibly powerful, scary guy just shows up and decides he wants you to hang out with him. And... you don't feel like you can tell him to get lost."
That's not a question. Blaze knows by now that Nike is afraid to say no to her, and even with the contract between them, Blaze is far, far closer to the angel's level. She's glad to know Lucifer didn't actively try to hurt her friend, but the twisting feeling in her guts doesn't feel much better.
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"I told him..." Nike takes a breath. "I told him it was irresponsible to pretend to be as mortals. That his whimsy nigh guaranteed no one would pay him the respect his kind deserve and all too often demand of mortals. But I know what he is. And I would treat him as he ought to be. He did not wish to hear it. Did not want to admit there was such...light years of differential in the power of himself over those he mingles with."
"I cannot be his friend. I am incapable of being powerful or important enough to ever be anything within a marginal estimate of an equal to him. And...what's more. I realized in chastising him that I was no better. For I too have strived to pretend to be mortal. To lie to the people around me. I fear I will never fit in the way I imagined I would."
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"It's not the same," she says immediately. "You're not like that." Then, "Is that how you think of it? When you're joining in like one of us? Being part of the team?"
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This time when Blaze's hands squeeze tighter Nike lifts her face once more. She's trying to regain her composure. Kill the emotions once more.
"I will never be a Guardian, Blaze." Her words are feather-soft. "Your Traveler will never find me worthy. I have to accept that." She wears their armor, uses their weapons. She can in fact do some of the things the Traveler's chosen can do in a slightly different way. Like them she can die over and over without long term damage so long as Blaze is unharmed. "I had...allowed myself to forget this. Until Steven was reborn. Until I saw for myself what it means to become a Guardian."
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She's starting to feel like she has a handle on what's upset the angel, but she's not prepared for Nike's words. Not prepared for how hard they hit. Nike has always been different to any of them, obviously. Different in ways it's taken Blaze a long while to fully appreciate. But she's always thought, if anything, that the strange nature and antics of her human associates (friends) was something the angel mostly just tolerated. Accepted without necessarily understanding. It didn't occur to her that Nike might envy any of it.
She's at a loss for what to say first - what comes out is: "But you don't need it. I mean- I know you're not of the Traveler, but you already carry your own Light. And I don't need the Traveler to tell me you're worthy."
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Dizziness washes over her. She feels unwell.
"I know it isn't necessary to be of use to you but..." But she had
wanted to bedone her best to be like the other Guardians. Prove she was worth keeping around even when Blaze did not think to summon her. "I...thank you. That is...kind of you to say."no subject
"It's only the truth, Nike." She needs to pull her thoughts straight. They keep throwing up conflicting impressions; fragments of thought about debts and demands and red sunlight through glass, the feel of tightness in her chest- irrelevant, unhelpful scraps scrunched up into one tangled ball of metal. Problems all running into each other.
She sits back a bit, letting go of Nike but propping her arms on her knees as she leans forward. Okay. One thought at a time. Drag out each piece and straighten it out.
"I guess it's... about time we talked about this. You did the right thing, trying to tell Lucifer what's what. The way I see it, it's like if the Traveler showed up in a human shape and told us to treat it like anyone else. I mean, I trust in the Traveler. Not everyone does, but I believe it'd try to treat us right. But it's not like us. It doesn't think like us or operate on our level. Doesn't follow our codes or laws. If I got in an argument with it, it could make the ground swallow me without even thinking. Wouldn't even be anyone in the galaxy who could hold it to account. And it ain't exactly fair to demand the weaker party pretend like that imbalance doesn't exist. Like it doesn't matter."
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"...Did I? But if it upsets him, even if it's the truth does it not put people in more danger? I...I was willing to lie if it would keep people safe. But I did not do it effectively." It's something of a relief to hear Blaze saying the things that she's been struggling to express so clearly.
That stuff about her being worthy, well. Nike's not sure how that makes her feel. In the moment it's one more strange buzzing sentiment she can't stop replaying in her head.
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She shifts where she's sitting, pulling back to rub at one antenna, gaze dropping for just a second. She ought to look Nike in the eye when she says this.
"Just like when someone's on the powerful end of an unequal contract, and they try to act like it's just a formality. When they don't get- when they don't think about how much power they have over the other person, so they expect they can just be a friend to them like anyone else. Truth is, they- I - have to face up to what it really means." She pauses, as if she's taking a deep breath. Maybe allowing Nike to, if she wants.
"So... we have to talk about our contract. I want to know if we can undo it. Make a new one - if you want to - on better terms."
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"It...you." Why is it so difficult for her to speak? "It can....be terminated." But through the leaden weight of her fear she latches on to that last bit. "I. I am proud to be your servant, Blaze." Don't leave, don't take this from her completely. But she struggles for the words to express the violent churn of emotion crashing over her in waves.
"I had thought....I..had a place here. A purpose."
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"But it doesn't have to be as a servant. I'd rather you stay as a team-mate. As an equal, whatever arrangement it'll take for that." She frowns at herself. "I mean- I don't know if I'm framing this right. I don't want to suggest you should do it, if you don't want to. But I want you to understand that I'd welcome it, if you do."
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"I do not know what that would even look like. What that would change....what it would mean." Nike admits in a voice so small it's nearly lost to the dormitory they're crowded in. "I do not think I am your equal. Were we to face each other..." She can't even imagine striking down Blaze. Though she can imagine with very certain clarity the titan breaking her.
Nike stars at the hand outstretched to her. When she reaches up it's to grip at the sides of Blaze's gauntlet with both of her own hands rather than giving the Exo hers.
"I fear as an equal all I would do is let you down. I am no Guardian."
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She pauses, her eyes focused elsewhere for a moment as she takes in Nike's whispered fears and too many of her own memories cry out in echo. "I know it's... frightening, this kind of change. Better than almost anyone, I'd guess. It's terrifying, when you feel-" it all coming apart, shuttering into darkness, every thought falling away to horrific nothing" "like your only anchor's crumbling away. When you don't know what's going to be left of you on the other side." Her gaze flits over nothing; then she shudders a little, deliberately recalibrating.
"But. But sometimes- sometimes, when you choose it - when you have a purpose to hold to-" she reaches out half-consciously as she recalls the Forge, and a warm wind brushes over her fingers, "turns out it's a good kind of frightening. The kind that comes with being free suddenly."
She turns her hand in Nike's hesitant grasp, to touch the angel's fingers. Her glowing gaze is seeking Nike's again. "I don't know all of what it would change, either. Or who you'd become. But I think maybe you want to find out. So I want to help you."
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"I've already been freed, Blaze. You freed me from a life lived in constant fear, chained by my birthright to be nothing more than any of my kind."
And she is afraid of losing her place at the Exo's side. That someone else will replace Nike as the titan's faithful servant. But more than that...she's afraid of letting Blaze down after all of that.
"The contract can be broken." Nike hears herself say, even though the words feel ice cold in her throat. "I would stay to hear your renegotiation proposal."
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Some tension goes out of her armored shoulders, when Nike accepts her offer. Blaze nods quickly, her fingers curling over the angel's delicate hands and squeezing cautiously. "Great- then we can do it whenever you think you're ready. I figured you might want some time to think over what you'd want out of the deal. Any guarantees, things you'd want me to do for you. Or... not do."
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Her gaze sweeps over Blaze who is visibly relaxing. Watching her body language, watching her grip shift to squeeze Nike's own fingers and suffuse them with warmth. This result...pleases Blaze. This is what the titan wants. It's made her happy.
Nike has...made her...happy.
Even if she is afraid of what this change will bring, is it not worthwhile if it pleases Blaze? Seeing her mistress-no. Her fireteam leader--no, again. If they are not master and servant, what else is there? Seeing her...friend? Is that what they are? Nike has made her happy, whatever Blaze is to become to her. And that feeling still spreads warmth beneath Nike's skin as much as it ever did. It makes her stop trembling so much.
"I...won't know how to do any of that, Blaze. But I'll try."
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She gets up to leave, needing some space herself as much as she expects Nike will. "Try to get some rest, all right? It's been a long, strange night."
But she pauses in the doorway, looks back. "And Nike? Lord Saladin's next induction for the new Guardians is coming round at the end of next month. I expect to see you there, understood? Have a good night."
Meanwhile, outside...
He does, however, glance at Siri as they walk, shooting her a silent message in private.
//If you encounter Amelia Ronsam again... don't let her get you into any position where she has a shot at you. Any chance to separate you from Steve.//
Re: Meanwhile, outside...
"Something easy. Sandwich if Mina's place is open this far past sunset. I don't know about you two but I'm beat." Watching kids and meeting New-Old friends (and some who weren't so friendly) has been exhausting in a way that running patrols out in the Cosmodrome just hasn't been. He wants to sit down and...maybe clean his weapons.
Steve's a little afraid of what might come out if he put pen to paper tonight to draw.
Siri comes to a full stop rather than answering Steve right away. At first Ghost won't get anything in reply back from her except a sharp burst of garbage data that's as grating as a squawk if she'd verbalized. Belatedly she bobs and gives Steve a distracted noise of agreement.
//What? What exactly happened back there? She knows to target ghosts? She would actually try to?!//
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His gaze drops, flits back to Siri for a moment. //I hope it won't. But I don't know.//
And a Ghost is a much easier target than an armored Titan. To say nothing of the fact that a relative stranger would be easier for Amelia to hurt than any iteration of Steve.
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Siri doesn't even respond right away which says all Steve needs to know about them discussing things without him. He's making such a face unseen right now but isn't about to interrupt and demand answers. They deserve their privacy, it's just irritating when they whisper behind his back.
//Well thank the Traveler a thug like that isn't looking to make friends with Steve again. She tries to take a shot at ME and there's going to be reports filed before she can blink. We've got an entire station of Guardians operating out of there. The Vanguard deserve to know if we're apt to lose Guardians doing so.//
Siri hasn't come this far and waited this long for a Guardian to lose it because of an emotionally unstable human in some weird pocket dimension that isn't even the place they're so focused on protecting. She'll take action if no one else will. She'll have Amelia Ronsam put on a watch list and steered clear of Guardian activity if that's what needs to happen.
//She should already have been removed as a threat, you realize.//
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"Sorry, Steve. We were just... distracted. I'm afraid I still don't know much about where people eat in the Tower. It didn't really come up before."
//She's a civilian, and so far Blaze is the only person she's actively threatened. Blaze believes the threat is over.// He can't be so complacent, especially out there in the Nexus. For most people in the City, harming a Ghost is roughly on par with harming a child. Maybe worse, depending on perspective. But both he and Siri have seen enough of their brothers and sisters die to know plenty of people outside the walls have no such compunctions.
//I don't want to alarm you too much. The Nexus anti-violence field would make it difficult for her to strike you directly in any case. I just needed to warn you not to give her that chance. If my Guardian is wrong, I don't want us to find out the hard way.//
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Siri barely gives her Guardian more than a glance. He'll be fine and this is information that could protect him. Besides, once he gets a meal in him he'll forget all about it.
//I don't care if she's the Nexus' Speaker, that's sick and you know it.// Losing their own to the many enemies of Earth is one thing. Losing them to the very people they're trying to protect is twisted and Wrong in every sense. //I'm not going to hold my data packets on her keeping away either, despite her asking for no contact. She won't catch me by surprise.//
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Certainly it's a lot happier than the tradition of Ghosts making the quiet choice to do what's necessary for themselves and their Guardians.
//I agree. And I understand. We didn't want to pull Steve into the conflict, but you should do whatever you think is best to protect yourself. And to protect him.//
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The mention of a concert though has Steve perking up a bit. He's not had much chance to see the softer sides of their culture much yet. He's caught a few people dancing together in the commons before but then there was no music to go along with it. "I think I'd like to see that."
"Just so long as you don't go humming along afterward for the next six weeks. You think it's a pain to get a tune out of Your head..." Siri's not really grumbling though. It's a relief to see Steve start to relax again. If he's relaxed he's not asking her questions. Siri doesn't have the answers to those yet. She needs time to process everything they've learned tonight. Either on purpose, or from drunks, or now from Ghost.
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With Guardians dropping in and taking off at all hours, and the Tower keeping a constant vigil, there are parts of their home that never really sleep. With the Dawning underway the social areas have a relaxed hubbub going on late into the evening; while many of the stalls have closed up there's a stand selling hot samsas stuffed with festively spiced meat and vegetables. The elderly man working the tandoor is more than happy to parcel up a few for the young Titan - eat them up, Titan, they'll make you strong, eh?
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His detour up to the commons isn't for naught, either. Lucking out to find some hot savory meal options will make the young titan nearly light on his feet to hurry and get in line for. Blaze has made sure he's always had enough glimmer to feed himself well (really she's given him more than he needs but she doesn't exactly know what food costs reliably) despite his not having much in the way of work underneath his mark yet. He's grateful to the man making the food and quick to wish him an earnest 'Happy Dawning!' before leading the ghosts back toward his assigned quarters.
"I can't wait to get back home to tear into these..." Siri was right about one thing. Steve's forgotten all about his huffiness over the Ghosts keeping secrets from him with the promise of hot food and a spot of entertainment only minutes away now.