LIGHTBEARER.

don't get him wrong, he's seen all sorts of strange guardians. warlocks who never blink. hunters without shadows. titans that don't eat or sleep. but her... it's different and he cannot pinpoint exactly what that difference is. only that it's there. there is something that distorts the edges of reality around her. if he could just... peel it back.

osiris forces himself to calm. he is in the last city. he is in the last city and... making a fool of himself. he can't just go around accusing people of hiding things. this is why people don't trust him. there is a time and place for doubt, and now is not the time nor place. not every shadow needs to be an edge.

he looks away, ashamed of how he acted. he clears his throat and looks down at his feet, swaying a little as he folds his arms over his chest. " i... thought i recognized you. "

a feeble excuse, but an easy one to make. he's been alive for a long time, and memory is not as sharp as he'd wish it. faces tend to blend. so unlike saint — who recalls every face he's saved and every face he's lost. and maybe that is in part to his own selfishness. or the fact he worries over the big picture, rather than details.

(he still remembers the bodies in the ruble.)

there is nothing inherently wrong about this guardian; not from a literal sense. she is a new light. she is a guardian, freshly risen and brought to the city by one of its own hero's guiding hands. new lights enter these walls all the time. they are greeted as new friends, as possible family.

but even the truth has missing pieces and hidden layers. and this new light is no human. she is not even terran. she is the sister of shapes, the embodiment of lies and cunning. she is that which raked across your mind and left you unresponsive for months. and, though she may lack her memories, she does not lack true cleverness.

"you would not believe how many times i've heard similar," says the warlock. the gentle laugh that escapes echoes in the hollow of her chest. she can taste cicada skin in the back of her throat. "your vanguard has stopped me in the hall a few times already."

she rests both hands in her lap, straightens her shoulders. the smile never leaves her face, even as the chitin beneath her skin itches. for too long she has been forced to wear this disguise. for too long, she has been confined to this shape of skin and muscle. she itches to shed this frail flesh and return to her full glory, to soar in the skies once more.

it cannot be done. not yet. not until theo has struck the final deal with her right hand. not until they know more of what will be, and what will become of her.

there is a brief moment of lucid clarity. before him is the arbiter of his nightmares, the god that had tried to recreate him in her image – a god who now weilds not only her own power, but the very power he worships and weilds himself. he is outmatched without a fireteam to back him up. it would be easy for her to pluck up his ghost and dispose of him right here. he should leave. he should leave. he should form a grenade in his fist and toss it at her face and pray that buys him enough time. there is no point in dialogue, here, and no safety in it either, not like there was when she was ensnared.

the claws at his ankle dig in. he bites back a sob as it begins to drag him from the place he’d thought was safe to sleep. theo’s grimy nails search for purchase in the cracked tile beneath him, his breathing coming fast as he finds none. he will be dead soon. he will be dead and no one but strange will ever know he even lived, and strange will die soon after.

“–no. no i don’t want– why the fuck would i want an engram? i want answers.” the titan’s lower lip juts out in that pouting scowl reserved for only the greatest of offenders – the ones who’ve managed to push him from mild annoyance to righteous anger. something is nagging in his hindbrain, something about the way she talks. he should keep her talking.

her shoulders tremble with a mirthful chuckle. the smell of vanilla and boiled silk wafts through the air.

he is nothing like what she expected. the stories woven through her songs, hymns of the forgotten left by those who remembered, had spoken of those like him. titans, with their wide shoulders and loose heads. she had wondered, then, how she-who-was could have loved one so foolish. but she sees it, now. the cleverness in those eyes. the caution.

he is not like his kin. his is something more. he is something of her making, of her brood. the thought makes something in her midgut twist. she-who-was had shaped him, and now he will shape she-who-is.

His eyes narrow for a moment as he reclaims himself and sits back. he eyes the woman. The way her words are carried. They are unfamiliar yet he has heard women like her speak before. The confidence of the world surges through her blood. Clovis cannot help but find a tinge of respect in that regard, but he still holds a concept at her other words.

" 'Yours to claim' ??" Clovis sounds flabbergasted at the thought before his voice lowers. "It was never yours to begin with. It was always meant to be mine." That last word is carried like a promise made to him by the very universe itself.

"Who are you ??"

her chin lowers, the last tremors of echoing giggles leaving her, and there is a smile. it splits her face, twists her features. it bares, perhaps, more teeth than humanly possible. and when she turns to look at him, it is with all three bright, glowing eyes.

"it was always mine," says the sister of shapes, in words meant for only him. "i saved this system from the being you would have served it to. i ferried away what it wanted most, and i twisted the truth for the promises of another tomorrow. i did this all out of love, and all before you took your first mucus-filled gasp, bray."

a hand rests between them. its bone-tipped nails dig into the concrete.

osiris has allowed himself to fade into the shadows as he walks the streets today. had he a wardrobe, he might've traded his usually conspicuous garb for something casual. but for now he pulls his scarf closer to his neck as he scans the crowd. people have taken to either giving him more room than he really needs, or pretend they don't see him. it feels as though everyone is watching him. constantly and always. the shadows remember him better than the sun does.

he's only here to run errands. saint said it would do him good to get out of his study and put his mind to other tasks. to look with fresh eyes. he was right, of course, and if he was anyone else he might've been annoyed by that fact. he stops tentatively in front of a fruit stall. at times he still feels so out of place here. he hears hushed tones and glances to his side half expecting them to be staring at him as they whisper. he exhales with relief when he's assured it's merely his anxieties running rampant.

it's when he feels eyes on him that he whips his head around. it must be aunor, trailing his steps, born of concern from ikora though all the same stifling. his hands shake, still so weak from disuse. he is met, instead, with the gaze of striking blue across the way.

something in him twists as a shiver crawls up his spine. he feels a lump in his throat and he takes a step back. every one of his instincts insists he flee and he knows not why.

but he is one to ignore them, in favor of sating curiosities. he forces two steps forward, letting it be known he has the intention to approach.

dimly, a part of her is away she is asking for trouble. theo had told her to keep her head down; to enjoy the morning sun, but not attract attention. she is savathûn, after all; sister of shapes, witch queen, the missing piece of all puzzles— her titles continue ad nauseum. she is the cleverest mind in all of existence. and despite it all, she cannot look away.

though he may not be the final piece of the puzzle, he is undoubtedly one in hers. her memories are still scattered. theo refuses to allow her into her thrown world, despite the brood looking for her. but they have her memories. they have her plots. and this warlock... while he does not have what she needs, he has pieces. of that, she is certain.

his mind had been scarred by her magic; green fissures buried so deeply in grey matter she'd feared herself unable to fix them. but she had. and she can feel it now, in that familiar place behind her tongue. she can smell the spices, taste the scream stolen from bloody lips. it is little more than a taste. she requires a feast.

the half-eaten bungeoppang is a hair away from her lips when he turns. bright blue eyes meet warm brown. where he shivers, she straightens. her midgut— or rather, the terran equivalent of it— twists. if she is still hungry, she does not feel it. instead, she feels silken rot caressing her limbs; the echoes of forgotten magic just a breath from the useless, dull things currently serving as her fingers.

not now, thinks cunning incarnate, and lowers wrinkled hands to rest in her lap. the corners of her mouth curve into a smile. the corners of her eyes crinkle into crows feet.

ind. priv. sel. savathûn, the witch queen, sister of shapes, the first hive lightbearer as conjured by moss.

“ i was just a kid. “

“ i want to be soft… “

“ you are immovable. “

“ do you forgive yourself? “

“ can i stop fighting, now? “

“ you were different. you cared. “

“ you never really cared, did you? “

“ i keep waiting for it to get easier. “

“ i’d lay down my life to keep you safe. “

“  think i’m owed a happy day… just one. “

“ i should’ve known better than to trust you. “

“ who the hell gave you the right to hurt me? “

“ you always made me believe that it was okay. “

“ no one’s ever smiled at me the way that you did. “

“ i thought i had forgiven. i thought i had forgotten. “

“ but, anger is damn well better than nothing, right? “

“ maybe some people are just made to be shattered. “

“ you gave. and you gave. expected nothing in return. “

“ all the love I’ve ever known… has never been gentle. “

“ do i fear you…? since when does a wolf fear its prey? “

“ something inside you is broken. maybe it always was. “

“ i’ll never forget their faces. i still see them every night. “

“ why do i find myself missing a life that never even was? “

“ maybe it’s time to show them what a mistake they’ve made. “

“  i didn’t know how far i’d fallen. i don’t know how i can escape. “

“ and, sure, you can fool them… but, you can’t fool them forever. “

“ i fucking hate it when you smile, because i know what’s beneath it. “

“ i found myself craving touch, aching to be held, if only for a moment. “

“ i’ll hold your heart as it deserves to be.  i’ll protect it to my final breath. “

“ no, you were never meant for this, but that will not stop you from trying. “

“ i guess i always knew it was too good to be true. shame on me for hoping. “

“ a fire still has a way of blazing ,still eats you alive, even if you aren’t looking. “

“ if that’s what it takes… i’ll let the beast inside win and claw my way through this. “

“ you thought you could keep them all fooled, but your silver tongue keeps slipping. “

“  you will have my forgiveness, time and time, again. always. ——  but, my trust…? “

“ i would do whatever it took to protect you… let my hands drip  r e d  to keep you safe. “

“ oh, yeah, there’s a lot of things i would love to say to you… ‘ fuck you ‘ comes to mind. “

“ there’s still so much of me that’s pieces of you. and i can never seem to claw them all out. “

“ how do i trust you won’t bring the lighter, the gasoline and set my garden ablaze as they did? 

“ i was too young for these scars on my heart. i was too young for this blood on my hands.”

“ we climbed all the way to the stars, but heaven knows we were doomed to fall from the start. “

“ wounds don’t ever heal. you just notice them less. on good days, you forget they exist at all. “

“ why the hell do i rearrange my world for you… when you pretend i’m not even a part of yours?”

“ it took me long enough, but i think i’ve finally figured it out. i’m the villain of this story after all… “

“ the moment they touch you is the moment they should be falling to their knees, pleading for mercy. “

“ they dropped the world on your shoulders and called you atlas.  ——- how long can you hold the weight? “

“ i could live without you. i could fight without you. i could survive without you. but, that doesn’t mean i want to… “

“ you were once among the strongest, appearing unbreakable, unshakable… oh, but, darling, even Rome’s walls crumbled. “

“  i don’t know how to put it into words how much i need you, how much i love you… i just know i sleep better when you’re beside me. “

“ they molded you into a monster. sharpened your claws, your fangs. ripped out everything good and holy, made you howl until your throat burned… “

“ you were so pure before they dragged you through the flames… now, you’re all charred remains and shattered bones, choking on ashes and smoke, begging for the fire back. “