#arcstridxr

"Hey, you! Lightmonger!" Yaviks's shrill laugh of a voice calls out to the Hunter, though she keeps her distance just in case. She may be a chaotic idiot, but she's not stupid.

Wait. That doesn't work, does it? Oh well, not likes Yaviks cares. She's just not dumb enough to get close to a Hunter that's probably still upset about what happened in the Prison of Elders. The Hunters are the worst about the whole vengeance thing, if you ask Yaviks.

"Dude, I'm pretty sure that was like...the worst crucible match I've ever been in." Exbocs puffs, pulling his helmet off now that the match is over. "Those guys have to be coming in from competitive or something, cause they just highkey whooped our asses." He tucks his helmet under his arm, putting the other hand on his hip.

He stands en garde, Huckleberry at his side as he stares down… Whatever this corrupted Hive creature was. He was surprised that they could speak at all, considering how most Hive he encounters usually end up just shrieking at him right before try to get their grubby little claws on him.

Not this one, though. And his confusion on the aspect on why this thing wasn’t attacking him is the only reason Zara doesn’t have a sniper bullet drilled into their skull yet. Of course the words spoken are supposed to be spooky and ominous, as is with most Darkmongers he encounters who are unfortunate enough to be able to talk to him.

“Yeah, a fuckin’ adventure into crap I thought I didn’t remember.” He scoffs and shakes his head, still not taking his eyes off the corrupted former Guardian. “What adventure did you get? Did it make you break out in Hives?”

   Zara stares right back at the very green Hunter, eyes behind chitinous mask wandering of his form and lingering on the weapon for a few seconds. If anything they find themselves just as confused over the fact they’ve not been shot at yet by this one. That, however, was bound to change. It usually did. 

   “Oh, I like you. Making jokes and you haven’t filled me with holes yet.” Zara’s voice is like that of someone long since expired, a death rattle, and maybe more than enough of a warning in and of itself. “I guess you could say that my adventure with death left me covered in Hive, not wrong, not entirely right either.” 

     He always had trouble walking, just as much as he had trouble moving the rest of him. He walked with a limp and even sometimes a stumble. One would think he’d be use to it by now, but it still tired him. 

      His feet came to a stop, hands shaking at his sides only to settle little when he began to take in his surroundings. The open field at his side, the rays of sun that shined through the trees. Even if he had to avoid the light, it was still something divine in his eyes. 

Trips to the Tower had always been less than fun for Vipeks, more uncomfortable than anything, truth be told, but they had been visiting the Tower more often in an attempt to get used to it. They had to get used to the way other Guardians behaved, not to mention learn how to get along with other Guardians, difficult as it may be.

For now, they sit placed on a tack of supply crates in the Courtyard of the Tower, simply watching other Lightbearers mill to and fro. Rushing to the Eververse booth, the cryptarch, the Commander, the gunsmith, so on and so forth. Vipeks wonders how the others can be so comfortable here.