Firefly, to be exact.

ART FIGHT ATTACK zeezee10101 has been ATTACKED

They've been out of it.

Well, more than usual, at least.

Usually, the Guardian just looks paranoid, constantly checking their surroundings with their head on a swivel. Usually, their Light feels solid, protective—the walls they put up to save themself. But lately, it has felt far more… twitchy? Liquid, maybe? They’re not paying as much attention as usual to what they’re putting out.

The point is, it’s been getting invasive, and he’s noticed how it has started to rub off on the people around them. They have a bad habit of… projecting, when they’re distracted.

Crow's not really sure why, outside of their normal reasons, though; and it’s not like he can go and ask their Ghost—It’s gotten more used to him, and the glares are fewer and farther between now, but it still doesn’t like him. Which, Crow supposes, is fair. But it’s been over a year since he found them the second time, and he’d hoped that Ghost would have some kind of trust in him by now…

Either way, he figures it’s been awhile since he’s taken a walk through the City, and even longer since the Guardian had—and Crow remembers a few places he could bring them for a little cheer-up. He just hopes no one recognizes them.

Well, he hopes that they accept the offer, first.

— —

Crow finds them sulking at the peak of the Old Tower.

Of course he does. Where else, pray tell, is higher in the City? 

He can’t help but let out a sigh, and almost mocks Hunters as a whole for always being so dramatic and brooding. (Were Cayde here, Sixer would’ve called him a hypocrite. Good thing Cayde isn’t—Otherwise he’d also tease Crow for knowing them so well.)

Putting on his most shit-eating grin, Crow clambers his way up to their perch. They reel in their Light when his own brushes against theirs. 

“So– hmpf,” he starts, as he pulls himself up the ledge. “Any plans for today?”

The Young Wolf unfolds themself from the ball they were curled into, and he figures they’re probably giving him a questioning look of ‘What are you planning?’—judging by the tilt—but they’re still wearing the mask.

Well, it’s mildly better than that decrepit old helmet they’ve worn since… he’s actually not sure.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing prank-related, if you’re worried about it.”

They snort and roll their eyes, switching to dangling their legs off the side.

“But, really, do you? I’ve practically got today to myself, and I have some ideas—If you’re up,” he offers.

They stare off for a few moments, their Light relaxing somewhat as they think it over, before giving him a small nod.

That’s one weight off his chest.

— —

“So, nice weather, huh?”

The sky is a solid cloud. They scoff at him. The Traveler is still absent.

Crow turns when they tap his shoulder, and look at him expectantly. It takes him a moment to realize they were signing at him… and he missed it entirely.

“Ah– Uhm. Repeat that, please?” he asks, rubbing his neck. 

Their shoulders slump and they throw their head back (to which he poorly suppresses a laugh), before signing, Where are we going?

“Oh– Don’t worry about it! It’ll be fun, I promise,” Crow winks, earning an eye roll from them.

The two walk a little further down the street, before he hums, cracking a grin. Crow can feel them squint at him, but… He grabs their hand and yanks them into a run, hearing a surprised half-squeak leave them, and ignores the nervous and confused stares following the two of them. 

No one can see who they are, Crow assures himself. It could just be him. It could just be because they’re Guardians. Besides, he’ll be there to step in, if their mask comes off. No problem.

Crow tightens his grip, and they squeeze back. He looks over his shoulder at the Wolf, and can’t help but smile. He may only see their eyes, but he can see the softness in them, something that makes his chest feel lighter with relief.

…Right before their eyes widen and the Guardian pulls him back suddenly—making him careen backwards into them.

“Now what was THAT about–” he swears he hears them laugh at him as he tries to regain his balance against their arms. “Almost toppled both of us–”

They interrupt him by forcing him to turn around by his shoulders, agitatedly gesturing at the pole he almost just ran the two of them into.

“Oh.” They let out another quiet snicker right behind him. “Don’t laugh at me–!”

— —

“And then, get this, Cayde just throws himself off the Tower, and Ikora– Ah, here we are!”

They look between him and the storefront a few times, before settling on narrowing their eyes at him.

The building itself was shoved backwards from the line of buildings surrounding it, but made up for the small line of sight with bright colors painting both the lighting and the surfaces. Cutesy stylized letters declared all things sweet and bright, with a glowing neon pink and pastel yellow sign holding a depiction of a teddy bear above the door.

Comparatively, the two of them looked like they just stepped out of a battlefield, dressed in all black with white and red, respectively. 

“Okay, I know how it looks, but I promise—It’s just one thing I have to show you inside,” Crow pleads.

They audibly sigh, and let him drag them inside.

The inside of the building was even more obnoxiously colored, he had to admit, with pink and white shelves lined with varying sized plushies and pastel or neon accessories. There were some other people there as well, most looking on the younger side, and those who had noticed the two of them were either staring or looking a little nervous. 

Crow ran a hand through his hair after glancing at the people in the store before giving the Guardian an encouraging tug into the wider store. “Just over here,” he mutters to them, feeling somewhat sheepish now.

Passing by a few rows of shelves, he leads them by the hand to a shelf of cutesy animal plushies. By now, the Guardian looks thoroughly confused, and somewhat taken aback. Even more so when Crow reaches for one in particular to show them. Holding it up and shaking it a little bit, he’s half-tempted to push it in their face like he’s seen Cayde do. 

The plushie itself is a soft gray wolf with big, sparkly blue eyes, but the part he loves is the sword held in its mouth. It's all felt fabric, which he finds odd for a blade, but it's cute. It even wears a simplified Iron Lord medallion around its neck.

It’s…weird. It’s old, most certainly, and the only one on the shelf. The sword doesn’t match any particular design, but Iron Lords are usually depicted with axes. Who else could it have been?

But he thought the Guardian might appreciate it.

They stare at it, eyes wide. He shuffles in place.

Maybe not.

“So..? What do you think?”

They forward and grab it in a gentle hand, hardly indenting the plush. They stare at it and he watches their breathing pick up a bit.

…Ah. Maybe.

— —

With the bottom of their mask lifted just enough to show their mouth, he could see the displeasure in the way their lips tightly thinned around the straw while he laughed. 

He opens his mouth to respond, before his own expression sours. The Guardian does their ‘something mischievous is happening’ lean away from him when his frown is replaced with a smug grin not a moment later.

“Speaking of Cayde’s games…” Crow trails off for a moment, turning to face fully at them, “He told me about something he calls the Game? Have you heard of it?” As if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s saying.