Oed’ und leer das Meer.

Here I stood, no weapon in my hands, making fists out of habit but with nothing to hit.

a collection of lines from the stories and films. 

‘ oh, bother! ’

‘ where are we? ’

‘ it’s got my name scribbled all over it. ’

‘ stay safe and sound. ’

‘ but we can’t all, and some of us don’t. ’

‘ weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them. ’

‘ some people care too much. i think it’s called love. ’

‘ that’s the silliest thing i’ve ever heard! ’

‘ tell all of them. ’

‘ thanks for noticin’. ’

‘ is anybody at home? ’

‘ when you wake up in the morning, what’s the first thing you say to yourself? ’

‘ gee, that was fun! ’

‘ i used to believe in forever, but forever’s too good to be true. ’

‘ might take a day or two, but i’ll find a new one. ’

‘ that isn’t even a word. ’

‘ i tried to stop, but it’s snow use. ’

‘ who am i forgetting? ’

‘ that wouldn’t be a very good idea. ’

‘ sounds like saturday night at my house. ’

‘ we’re always there for you. ’

‘ one of the advantages of being disorganized is that one is always having surprising discoveries. ’

‘ i have pumpkins to protect! ’

‘ eat well. ’

‘ that’s what it is. pathetic. ’

‘ nobody can be uncheered with a balloon. ’

‘ what i like doing best is nothing. ’

‘ neither can i. ’

‘ when you and me become we. ’

‘ what on earth are you doing! ’

‘ did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again? ’

‘ i don’t see much sense in that. ’

‘ i just love a happy ending. ’

‘ oh boy, a party! ’

    A fleet of kites. She was starting to ease through all of this as well, which was appreciated. There were times where he had a hard time to lighten the mood as he hasn’t had too much practice with it lately. If he pissed someone off, generally he just kept going to make them angrier.

    Not her. She wasn’t one of those people he wanted to push away.

     “Tie a bunch to me and see where I land. Carry me to the Caribbean.” A snicker came from him only to notice his coffee was all gone. “While you search through your time capsule, you want anything to eat or drink? Don’t got a lot but….some fruit and water.” He was…working on having a normal apartment life.

“That sounds more like losing a bet than something you’d do for an experiment,” Seraph chuckled. She watched him go to take a sip of coffee only to find none with a faint smile. What a contrast to their nights drinking, or his attitude with his work. Every faucet was still him, a man out for bounties to a groggy hunter. 

“By the Light, Roman,” she chuckled, lightly slapping his shoulder with the back of her hand. “No, they didn’t plan on dropping bombs with it. These are personal effects, remember? You’re the one telling me I’m not just a soldier. I must’ve liked flying it, or maybe it was my mother’s or sister’s. I… don’t think I could fly it now.” 

She examined it a little before folding it carefully. The bamboo seemed to resist before it complied enough to be stored again. “I’d have to consider the sparrow thing, but maybe I’ll take it out to the cosmodrome or something and try to see if I remember how. Besides, I don’t know if anyone could top the guardian who tied those streamers to their sparrow last season– they looked pretty damn cool.”

    He knew his rough hand and didn’t bother to try and touch the weathered kite in fear of it crumbling to dust from his touch alone. “It looks pretty simple. Could probably make a copy of it so you don’t ruin that one. Keep that as a family heirloom.”

She could make a copy, certainly, but she'd have no one to give it to. The idea left a little longing in her chest, but she dismissed it. Still, that didn't negate the sparrow racing.

   If she actually asked about it, he’d be completely honest and open to her. Otherwise, how could he just start telling his life story right then and there? Mention the part of being forced into sex work, the orphanage, his throat getting slit, and everything in between? No. Later.

     He stared to the small item she brought out and grinned lightly. “Never flown one before? Wait–that was in a big military tech place? What the fuck were they planning to do, drop bombs from a little kite?”

     Roman rubbed his finger over the attaching string and chuckled, “you-you could attach this to your sparrow and be the coolest guardian at SRL.”

“By the Light, Roman,” she chuckled, lightly slapping his shoulder with the back of her hand. “No, they didn’t plan on dropping bombs with it. These are personal effects, remember? You’re the one telling me I’m not just a soldier. I must’ve liked flying it, or maybe it was my mother’s or sister’s. I... don’t think I could fly it now.” 

Because love comes in all shapes and forms! (and what’s an event without an ask meme to kick it off?) Send a symbol for the following:

❤ -  to give my muse romantic chocolates.

♡ -  for your muse to receive platonic chocolates.

❥ - for a wildcard.

ღ - for my muse to make a pinky promise with yours to stay friends.

💕-  to cuddle up together with blankets! 

💞 -  for my muse to pick up yours and spin them!

💝 -  for a handmade wrapped chocolate box! 

💘 -  oops! i accidentally hit you but its cause you’re really cute! 

💖 - to recieve a glitter bomb valentine!

💓 - for your muse to give a shaky confession.

💗 - for MY muse to give a shaky confession.

💟 -  to get some clothes sewn by hand (specify item, if you can!)

💌 - for an anonymous letter!

❣ - for my muse to exclaim that they adore your muse!

🌷 - for my muse to put a flower in your muse’s hair.

💋 - for your muse to receive a platonic OR romantic kiss!

✋ - for your muse to suddenly hold my muse’s hand.

   Roman was used to people bringing these things up to him in hopes of him tracking them so he had assumed that she’d want the same. Of course, she was far different than most that he had known. Far better, too.

     “Yeah, more box stuff,” he agreed. She mentioned him wanting to talk and he immediately shook his head. For the most part, he was an open book–as long as someone asked. It was rare for him to just start opening up about his life out in the blue. “I’m good on my end.”

      Another sip from his mug and the bounty hunter scratched at his growing beard. “What else we got in here? Treasure? Please?”

She watched him for a moment after he declined to share anything. It wasn’t surprising, really.  Seraph turned back to the tags in her hand, then looked towards the box as she slipped the chain around her neck. 

“I don’t know about treasure,” she answered, tugging the box closer to her. She paused again at the other photos, then brushed them aside. Not now. “Hey-- here, this is something.” 

GOOD END- The ideal end to my muse’s story where everything is resolved and they can live a good life.

BAD END- The bad guys win. Everything that can go wrong for my muse had gone wrong.

TRUE END- Bittersweet ending. Some things go right, other things go wrong. Some sacrifices have to be made, but most people are happy in the end.

EVERYONE LIVES- No one has to die in my muse’s story, be it for Better or for worse.

WE ALL FALL DOWN- No one is safe in the end of my muse’s story. Everyone important to the story has perished. This can include your muse or not.

WENT DOWN IN HISTORY- Your muse’s story is passed down through the ages, sometimes being stretched or exaggerated in places until it becomes a legend told in storybooks and campfires as poems, tall tales, etc.

   Some were more than friends. That line ran through his head over and over in an attempt to figure out what that could mean in so many ways. “So…what now? That was ages ago. Think some of them could be guardians like us? We could try more digging at Clovis but I doubt that rubble heap will hold much.”

    Roman lived a life of cutting people away. He was a bridge burner in its entirety and never saw the point in reaching out for people who were already gone, but he understood that she wasn’t that type. “If you’re trying to find these ghosts, I can try to help but…I’ll leave no promises.”

She hesitated at his questions. Really, she hadn’t considered a “now” in reference to her old life or the people that were in it. There was the possibility they could be guardians, alive. Seraph didn’t answer at first. 

“I... Can I get back to you on that? I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I didn’t come here to ask you for help piecing things back together-- that’s not your responsibility, it’s mine. I came by because, well... I wanted to share this... aspect of me, whatever it is. But... thank you, Roman, for that.” She spoke longer than she would’ve liked, dragging out her discomfort. 

“A little tike?” Seraph repeated incredulously, but she was smiling. She pushed his shoulder back, albeit less than he had. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Roman.”

She shook her head and looked back to the tags in his hand. Wear them again? She hadn’t really thought about it– she didn’t need the name in the field. Only Roman would recognize it, and even then she’d be better identified by her cloak. But, that wasn’t the point of it. “Maybe…” She watched the metal in Roman’s hands thoughtfully. “In a way they don’t really feel like mine yet.”

    A brow raised, “yet? Do you think that you gotta earn them?” He paused and took a breath, putting his mug down then reached for her hand, folding it over and open before pressing her tags into her palm. Curling her fingers over them, he looked her in the eye. “That is still you. You’ve earned them, and even more so with what you’ve done as a guardian. It’s your choice to wear them, not anyone else’s.”

She smiled at his comfort, more to herself then him. He was right, she knew that. It was just about learning what the rest of her was. Roman was helping with it– being more than just another gunmen she worked with. He was complex himself, and part of her hoped they were wading in this together, finding themselves and each other. 

Seraph set the photo on the coffee table after looking at it a second longer. She reached back into the box and pulled out a simple chain, clinking tags making quiet sounds. “Not much else besides photos. These are my tags, Tien’s tags.”

She offered them to him, pressing them into his palm. “Look at the dates– makes me feel old.” 

     Another sip of his coffee and the photo was gone out of view as she stirred through the box of goodies once again. Part of him started to wonder just what could be in there, and the idea of her having a family that was…long gone started to brew. How awful would that be? A full family and to forget it all. 

One of their earliest moments together was spent with them talking over their futures and what to do with the whole war. He never really thought of it as an “identity crisis” for her, and even less so for himself, but that was a good way of describing both their issues.

    “So, being a soldier is what you know. But it isn’t all that you are.” Roman stared at the photo for a bit, more so at her than any other figure in the picture. He didn’t really care about them. But seeing his friend as….someone else? Strange.

     “So, what else ya got?”

She smiled at his comfort, more to herself then him. He was right, she knew that. It was just about learning what the rest of her was. Roman was helping with it-- being more than just another gunmen she worked with. He was complex himself, and part of her hoped they were wading in this together, finding themselves and each other. 

Seraph set the photo on the coffee table after looking at it a second longer. She reached back into the box and pulled out a simple chain, clinking tags making quiet sounds. “Not much else besides photos. These are my tags, Tien’s tags.”

He knew the part of exos coming from humans rather than what he had initially thought when brought back. They had human bodies and memories and…lives in general before it all, though he never really asked how that came about or why. She pointed to the one woman who he had only glanced at before and studied her more firmly this time.

    “That…was you?” It wasn’t really a thought that had gone through his head before. Seraph was an exo to him, through and through. There wasn’t a wasted moment of wondering just what she looked like as a human, whenever that time period was. Now…he had an idea.

     “Shit, and here I was about so say that she was pretty c…wait,” his thought stopped, looking up to the other guardian, “so…you went to Clovis Bray and they made you into….you?” The puzzle pieces were finally clicking together for him. “You went back to try and figure out what you were before, huh?”

Seraph smiled, visibly happy he was making the connections. He understood it then, and there was still a small bit of surprise to it. “That was me. Twenty-two, fresh out of basic.”

She held his gaze for only a few moments, still slightly nervous about sharing it with him. She trusted him, wanted to share it with him, but it wasn’t something she had time to think about and decide how she felt about it. “I did. I thought maybe... maybe it’d help with the whole identity crisis the Red War caused. Ironic isn’t it? I was still a soldier even then.”

    “Must’ve been after my time,” he murmured, watching as she peeled the thing open and started to sift through it. As the years went on, he remembered less of his times before being a guardian. Was Clovis Bray a thing he heard near the end of his life or were his new memories bleeding into old memories? Bleeding. Old bleeding. Roman’s finger ran across the scar over his throat.

     She handed him a photo and he scanned it sort of blankly, not sure what to really make of it all. “Ooo, big corporation is more shady than we all thought. Big surprise there, huh?” Sarcasm coming from the man that hated all authority. Go figure. Without really looking at the photo and studying it, he offered it back to the other guardian with a raised brow, half expecting her to point out the people in it. What, was Cayde one of them? Or her? Or something else. “Are you trying to get me to hunt these people down? I’m a hired gun, not some detective.”

Seraph rolled her eyes at him, taking the photo back and touching the faces of her old squad. Her first squad, she figured. “Most of them are dead already, I’d guess.”

She looked to him, watching his expression. It was pretty blank. Maybe she wasn’t giving him enough dots to connect, maybe it seemed too simple to her. She held the photo between them. “I was going to have you guess, but maybe it’s easier if I explain it. So, your big shady corporation was unsurprisingly, actually shady. They were the leaders in developing the Exo, from what I could tell. Now, Exo aren’t super realistic A.I. All of us started as people, Roman. Some of us sold out to clear debts, some of us volunteered to test the process for science. That process, whatever it was, made me what I am now, but way back, before I was even just Seraph, I was someone else.”