#aceofcaydes

LOL

*smooches u instead* HI HELLO I REALLY LIKE YOUR BLOG FRIEND!

like the flood but with four arms now instead of 2

“You’re not stepping down.” Voice quivering with steady ( but quiet ) force, Ikora does not even blink, lest the boy in front of her melt away. Never would she call him such a thing - not seriously - but by all known measures, he is sniveling like a child. A certain degree of sniveling is acceptable for a Vanguard, but this...this is out of hand. This will eat him alive.

Feeling his need for some sort of punishment for his mistakes leaves her skin crawling. There are few times in which she has had to deal with this level of despondency, and fewer still in this life. The ache in her chest refuses to go unnoticed the longer she looks at him, so naturally the only acknowledgement she provides it is a slight grimace.

“Do you know why you are still here, after everything that has happened? No, of course you don’t, but,” she pauses to bite down on her own guilt, “you listen to me, Cayde-Six. Listen.

RIP !!!!

he’s quiet, really. you’d have to press your ear against the flat of his chest to get so much as a hint of the thrumming machinery inside that kept him alive. but he hums, vocalizers lighting up a golden glow around his throat. his cyan optics blink, facial plates shifting with a look of surprise at the rather striking woman’s compliment. whether she meant it as one or not, he’d take it.

                    “ i’m just a lost gunslinger, ma’am, ”   he answers, one swaggering step taken forward, cloak swishing softly at his feet. a large cat moves too, a river of molten obsidian, wrapping languidly around her calves.   “ would you mind tellin’ me where i’m at? ”

@aceofcaydes

Was it some form of armor she’d never seen before? Berúthiel didn’t think so; it was metal, it was strange and sourceless glows... and yet there was something organic about it, the way it moved and shifted. She could feel the mind inside it, sentient and strong. There was always rather too much of the cat in this once-queen; she was more than curious. She was fascinated. 

                    “And perhaps if I knew what a gunslinger might be, that would even help!” she retorted with a low laugh in her throat. “But lost, I understand well enough.” Berúthiel cocked a hip, one long-fingered hand resting upon it as she watched the being approach.

“To say ‘ we need her ’ is an understatement that I am hyper-conscious of.” She unlocks her jaw as she meets Cayde’s eyes. Grinding her teeth is a stress reaction she does not need to make habitual. “There would be no Last City without Eris Morn. I fear what would happen next time should she not be here - or willing - to aid us, per our actions.”

Ikora finds herself leaning forward, her hands now resting on the table. She looks down, staring through the table as though it did not exist. Since Eris had left, she has not stopped thinking of all the possibilities - all the terrible, terrible consequences of tossing their greatest survivor out of her reclaimed home. The many ways in which the City could fall stick in her mind like pins and needles, but there is always Eris at the center. Eris, now more vulnerable than ever, blind and surrounded by the Dark once more. Capable, certainly, but alone.