“A Void Guardian cannot be Vanguard,” said the Speaker, descending the stairs from the balcony. Bronze light lapped at the railing, at his eyeless mask. His footfalls were soft. “That is what they say. What is your answer?”
Ikora knew the rumors about the Void. Most people presented those rumors to her only in polite terms. But the Speaker had been testing her lately, preparing a place for her, and she knew the studies he spoke of. The Void was Darkness, some said. The Void was cannibalistic.
She adopted a posture of reverence, her eyes downcast, but her voice was firm.
“The Void is gravity,” Ikora said. “It shapes the world invisibly. But it is not dark matter. We can see the Void, touch it.” She thought of the violet sheen of a crackling Void Soul, of the way its passing raised the hair on her arms. She thought of her mixed feelings about becoming Vanguard — not wanting to take Osiris’ place, but knowing she would fix some things, knowing she wanted to fight for her own place. “The Void comes from the Traveler. I could cite Levit’s Absolute Zero Thesis, or Trail-5’s equation, but the simple evidence in the observable world shows Lightbearers use the Void. Therefore, the Void is Light.”
“You can cut through problems well,” the Speaker said fondly. “I’ve read your books; you can elaborate if needed. But to use decisive logic is a skill worthy of a Warlock as well. I accept your answer. And I think, soon enough, the whole Tower will, too.”
A dream left in passing of a passing. It leaves behind stagnancy and despair.
---
Loosely inspired by the video game "Dear Esther" (which I really recommend) and to cope with Episode 1 of Heresy.
This is rather abstract but I think it's worth posting.
Dear Eris,
I’m in a vast plane of existence — now empty of features aside from protruding white columns and towering black monoliths. It'd be a lie if I said that I didn't know this place better than the back of my own left hand. Every stone, every crevice, every landmark. But as far as this is my furthest retreat — I’m still lookin' for you. Are you lookin' for me, Moondust? That dusty old cratered rock has been quiet since you left. Even them Nightmares have clammed up a bit. Maybe they miss you too. Miss the torment — the backlash — the defending party.
I remember how you would keel and I would watch from a distance, unnoticed. You looked so damn tired. So.. I minded my own business and left. How long have you been tired? Tell me, and tell it true. ‘Cause I feel it too.
———
Dear Three-Eyes,
There's a weight in my hand, can't tell if it's a bottle, a shell or a gun but it's sharp and cutting. Just like the rocks dragging across my legs as I drag myself through the layered dust-sands. Aimless or not, I hope what I’m carryin' will bring some deliverance.
Time don't matter to me anymore, but you still do. To say that I've always thought you've mattered beyond your more simplistic humanity would be wrong, and a lie, and you know Drifter don't lie. All that to say that it was worth getting to know you. You will always matter to me now, and you have for a few years now, darlin’.
All this to say.. I’m still lookin’ for ya. Are you looking for me? You'll probably find my rot and bone if anything at all. What if you thought I'd left forever? Like I thought you had.
———
Dear Moondust,
I still have that jagged weight in my hand. I might eat it eventually. My hunger is makin’ me go blind. Is that possible, or is it just the bright ground against my tired eyes? And how long have I been crawlin’? I guess it don't matter but you could probably find streaks of red left behind me.
There is a steeper incline, and I intend to make it to the top. The sky ripples like water and I wish it didn't. It's an ‘a-z-u-r-e’ blue one with the Jovian planets up out there. "Azure," hah, what a funny soundin’ word.
As sure as can be, I’m making my ascent, Eris. I’m still lookin’ for you. Are you lookin’ for me?
———
Dear Moonlight,
Lookin’ over the white wasteland and I think of how all the fields wilted and died. There was no one left to care for them. The weight in my hand has been more steady but I'm afraid to look at it. Thousands of crushed up tiny millions of billions lay around and the jagged thing in my palm is my only company. I don't know why I got it. But I only know I'll use it. I'll find ya.
M’fully blind by now but I’ve realized that white-knuckled, bloody grip is holdin’ multiple things. I feel those jagged scraps of something awful and the cold sleekness of a barrel. I don't know what I did but I am so tired and I can feel that my journey is almost up.
The climb then the plummet. Like that cliff we leapt off, me first, then you. Guess it's the other way ‘round this time.
The jagged pieces, I pocket them as I'm fishin’ for somethin’ else. A long-release capsule, at least I assume. M’loadin’ the barrel and I think of you. You're so brave. I don't know why my hand shakes but it does when I click the hammer, lookin’ without sight down at my knowin’ precipice.
As if as second nature I press the cold metal to my head ‘n I wait. Why do I wait? The rags of cloth cling to me like dirt and I wait. I think m’still waitin’ at that ridge, lookin’ out at the non-ocean, waitin’ waitin' waitin'.
“You know what I am and you know what I want from you.
“You have chosen to hunt me, and now I am choosing to be the game.
“I challenge you in the ways of old.
“Come into my gaping maw. I am ready to receive you.”
Why do you make things difficult? Your father Oryx has killed for millennia and fed his worm to excellence. This is why his Dreadnaught glides through the Sol System so smoothly. His Wizards have stayed to the teachings of the Deep and do not practice heresy. This is why they work their magic so potently. His brood mothers produce their quota of thralls. This is why they sleep safely in their hidden halls. Why do you defy the patterns which have sustained the Hive throughout our long journey through empty space? Come back to us, Nokris. Put aside the selfishness that hurts you. The only other option left to you is exile. Move more easily, with us.
Let me tell you, little thrall, the reason why the Witness revealed itself to humanity at Mare Imbrium.
It begins, as all things do, with the Hive. You may feel some shred of questioning shed on your arm. Did your wizard not just say this was a story of the Witness? Is the Witness not older than the Hive, and strange to us? Nevertheless, you are in our tunnels. The universe is full of emerald and onyx. Peel the shred of questioning off.
Now, Savathûn did not know of the existence of the Witness, but she suspected. It was uncouth to say that something was pulling the strings of the Hive, being as the Hive were all-eating and left nothing but themselves behind. Still, Savathûn investigated secrets and unspoken things, and thought that the sword logic might be creating a throne just to harness the energy of an eternal vacancy.
Around this time, Crota’s brood took Earth’s Moon without even most of the fleet behind them, Sol’s citizenry running as low on their hoonish little spaceships as they did.
Crota had ambition and bite and a certain blind devotion which Savathûn knew well.
After all, she had done so much good work faking it.
Oryx was deep in the galactic center, finding treasures; Xivu Arath was in forever war with the Cabal Empire; Savathûn had been to Sol before and accompanied her brother’s brood as Crota took the Moon. And meanwhile, she had her own experiments, her own black-slab projects. Savathûn’s cunning arts untangled the DNA of the worms. It was heretical to slice those little gods apart, but she did it, and Nokris helped. Through this, she became fond of her nephew’s penchant for soul fire and pickling vats. Through this, she learned enough to ask the worm gods who their gods were.
They answered Rhulk, and the glaive with which he killed his father.
This meeting of Rhulk and Savathûn before Crota’s brood had hardly scratched furrows in the Moon is the topic of another story. Finally, a victim higher up the chain answered My Witness.
With this confession, that watcher turned a few of its eyes to the Hive.
With a discerning eye for the sorts of injustices which caused both material and morale harm, the Witness set its sights on Savathûn’s pet project, Earth.
The child who had once been Sathona felt the universe coiling around her in static-fuzzed black tendrils of fear as she stood on a grand tombship at L2. Nokris skulked behind her.
And so did the Witness raze the Moon, upon which had formerly crawled Crota’s nearly-newborn brood, and upon which happened to be a few Guardian fireteams. The Witness began to enact the Final Shape upon the Moon for revenge against Savathûn, who had dared to investigate it and to lie to it, as she was wont.
Come here, little thrall. This story is a secret. Did you know that? I am a confidant of Savathûn and I must practice my stories, practice my histories. I must test them in different situations and for different people, so that I get the words just right. But the Queen of Lies suffers few truth-tellers. No, don’t scuttle away. A Guardian or a Tormentor would have gotten you eventually. It’s statistically likely. Look. That hurts. Don’t bite. There --There.
(This is a Destiny ten-year anniversary project. Context here.)
After the slaughter, when Eris walked alone, she yearned for the first few rooms of the Pyramid ship as if they had been good times. Golden light flickered on a black stairway. Eris moved along the corridor in a crouch, a stolen glaive under her arm. A Tormentor cut the air with the speed of its passing in the antechamber ahead.
In truth she had been afraid in the first few rooms, too. The distance between the Earth and Moon had frightened her, every one of nearly four hundred thousand kilometers threatening. The fear didn’t last very long because she had focused solely on killing.
Eriana had brought her fireteam to the Pyramid ship seeking revenge and glory. Toland, Hive scholar, had approached Eriana wide-eyed and oddly vulnerable, wanting to see the enemy-of-his-enemy who would not play the friend. Eris could not always tell whether he pitied the Hive or not for having their stronghold wiped out by the Black Fleet. She knew just after that, almost as soon as she wondered about the line between Toland’s iron curiosity and his vulnerability, that she was nearly in love with him.
Now, she felt a physical urge to hold some proof the two of them had once existed in the same space. What could she possibly touch? A bit of his sleeve, touched casually in passing? The Dread had destroyed anything like that. A piece of glimmer from his pocket? He had bought none on the mission. Nothing.
Eris hid and killed and lived in the Pyramid for three years, until she found her way out of the shifting labyrinth. Gray Moon dust flaked off her blistered, mortal hands. She looked up, trying to find the Earth. Black cliffs cut into the sky like open jaws.
On one of the sharp outcrops crouched Savathun. “Ready for revenge?”
Rhulk angst. This was written in the days before The Final Shape came out in order to cope with impatience.
Mental Anguish
Altered Mental States
Psychological Torture
Isolation
Murder
weird syntax
Emotional/Psychological Abuse
Fourth Wall
Syntax explained:
(These are Rhulk's thoughts, memories and/or sensations.)
"These are either canonical lines or adjacent."
—-The Witness uses this syntax.—-
[These] [additions] [are not] [meant]|[to][exist.] [But they do.]
+-Fanon.Scorn.Syntax.Be.Like.-+
(Rhulk.Going.Through.It.)
[]|[++]|[--] ** Prefix For Rhulk's HUD Intrusions — "F + Cringe."
———————————
(The Child screams for forgiveness in stammering wordings during the Sapphiric night. It believes itself alone.)
—-Come, young thing.—-
(Up darts its head in the penumbral light.)
—-You shall not be harmed.—-
(It believes because it wants to. Because it can. It chirps and after initial confusion and surprise, its head snaps back, accepting that it cannot see the interlocutor. Part of it reflects, and for the split of a second, It doubts this belief.)
—-Follow us and you shall be saved.—-
(Its doubt dissolves as it nods|shakes its head and pulls itself onto foot from its previously curled up position.)
—-Good.—-
(Hearing this, its face informs the Voice of Relief.)
———————————
(I stand before my Witness now. I let it inspect my growth|worth. It is Impassibilty. I am not. My claws twitch at my dishonesty. I do not speak.)
...
(Its silence overshadows every scream that I will ever hear. Behind my back, still standing at attention, my hands ball into fists. My claws dig within the callous spaces between flesh. I do not bleed.)
...
(I have been standing at attention ever since I was born. I should not complain. So I do not. My sinuous legs crack all the same. I must not stumble.)
...
(I stumble and every word that I have ever known is inverted. I wail in my faltering. I am silent.)
…
———————————
(I wake to six intrusions within my prison. I have been alone for so long. The song of mine own death rings in my ears.)
"Welcome, children of Light. Drown in the Deep. Or rise from it."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
[]|[++]|[--] ** Approach, Children… — “Through mud and mire you trudge, seeking that which lies in the bog. Does it drown? or rise? Perhaps you will decide.”
…
[]|[++]|[--] **You Search and Search and Search… — “Listen not to those who supply cautions. It is insulting to you, oh children of Light. Let strength be your guide.”
———————————
Foul thing of Deep! Let it be known that you are but a simple instrument of Perfection!
“…”
(I rip out the rib from its side. It screeches in disharmony. My hearing leaves again.)
“The Witness… sees Light fall. Glimpses you… free of chains. Boundaries. Truly limitless potential. Domination unbound.”
“…”
“Quiet lest your scream cradle your future spawn evermore!”
(I rend. I rend. I rend. I rend.)
…
(Its silent surrender from life informs me of relief.)
———————————
[]|[++]|[--] ** Truth. Symbolize. Is. Materialize. Everywhere. — “Your eyes are always closed. Do you not see what’s right in front of you? Those who fail to see the truth will drown in it.”
(The six slay creatures I do not recall the names of. I ache. I should not but I do regardless. I am suspended by my right ankle. I have no blood.)
“The Upended. A triumvirate. Opportunity. Preservation. Salvation. It will serve the deserving. Crush the defiant.”
...
(Mother?...)
...
———————————
[]|[++]|[--] ** You Exhaust Me — “Life is but a pointed game, pointing you in pointless directions towards pointless goals.”
(Not amber but preserved in something like it, dead-half-living-writhing things are suspended in non-repose. The only remaining vestiges of their species for the most part. Aside from I and them, the Dark City - surrounding the Once-Nurturing God-Worm Xita - is devoid of existence.)
———————————
"Not kings. Not gods. Disciples. Prophets. Saviors serving existence. An undying purpose. A privilege."
[]|[++]|[--] ** Do Not Disrupt the Caretaker — “SCORN. They eat away at the decay within a shell of. SCORN. Truth exists all around outside the shell of. SCORN.”
(I beg for my Caretaker, my archivist, my pet, my friend, to be left alone. I am unheard.)
...
+-Owch.Papa.It.Hurts.-+
...
(Perhaps if it had remained perfectly still it would have not been slain with such brutality. It only took a backwards glance for it to no longer be. Regardless, it is slaughtered without pretence.)
…
(Where.Is.The.Relief?)
…
(I see no relief. I hear no relief. I am alone.)
———————————
“The defiant… subjugated. Not for pleasure, nor glory… but in service of an ailing, endless void. Where does your purpose lie?”
(I am…)
[]|[++]|[--] ** You Are Directionless… — “They say purpose questioned is healthy. Perhaps aimlessness does not plague you. Futility, however…”
(...)
“...”
…
(I have only but…)
[]|[++]|[--] ** Nothing More than Meaningless Trinkets — “Did you think you were the observer? Or did you believe you pulled the strings? Now’s your chance — with artifacts or fate, you can make them dance.”
———————————
“Resilient, but credulous. You came to conquer. Moved pieces. Turned gears. To us, you sought harm, but performed aid. The Upended will live out its namesake. This world will be sealed from the Light, leaving your kind to suffer. You are not fit to serve the deserving. You will not rise from the Deep, but drown in it.”
(So.Tired.So.Unalive.)
———————————
[]|[++]|[--] ** Apocalypse is on Your Horizon — “The end is near by your own hand, children. Come, sit beside before you drown.”
(I would like to know what it is like to be a child once again...)
———————————
(What.Does.Not.Burn?)
“You have served your purpose. All that waits you now is the gift of death… the darkness beyond your final days.”
(Luster.Burns.Light.Burns.)
———————————
[]|[++]|[--] ** DROWNDROWNDROWN — “The Upended is alive. You have no more tasks ahead of you. Lie down and embrace the darkness beyond your final days.”
“Stay and die, leave and die. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”
(No.Difference.To.Them.)
...
“What to do with your corpse[s]? Perhaps they could line the walls of my domain.”
(Idealization.)
...
“The Upended has turned countless worlds upside down. Yours will be|[has been] no different.”
(Repetition.)
...
“Oh, how I cherish[ed] your constant dance with death!”
(Rehearsal.)
...
“Thrilled to pick my teeth with your bones, little ones.”
(...)
...
“The only shape you|[I]’ll take is that of death.”
(Conjecture.)
...
“Big day for all of you! Congratulations on making it this far.”
(i yawn out of sheer exhaustion my maw remains shut)
...
“Take your time!”
(so.tired.loud.silence.)
...
“Is this a test? Yes… MY test! I deliver you finality”.
(confusion)
...
“I am very impressed with you all. Really! I’ll still have to kill you, of course.”
(dizzy)
...
“The Witness sees you. Grants you opportunity. And you|[I] squander it!”
(...)
“Serve the abyss… Embrace the end!”
(...)
...
———————————
“Wake me when you’re done playing around, little ones.”
(...mother?)
...
“My blood spilled. Bravo! More. More! I will return the favor.”
(father…?)
(my chest bursts with a million dead branches the dead thing is dead long-death to the dying shamed shamed shamed shamed shamed shamed where is my relief i deserve it i was promised relief where is it where is it where is It-)
In his defeat, Rhulk’s body emits vines of Darkness. The Disciple’s glaive, harbinger of ruin for eons, now lies still, ready for the Guardians’ communion.
———————————
…
(mama)
…
(papa)
…
(goodnight)
… … … …
———————————
[MISSION COMPLETED.]
“Hey, did anyone get their Collective Obligation?”
