amusement flickering in his eyes, he’d snicker, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on to walk towards where she stood. was she dumbdfounded, he wondered? “ y’know, usually when you use golden gun, you control it, so it doesn’t fling you back like that. y’good ? let’s try it again. “
“i know you're many things. impatient. selfish. reckless. but a bad man, isn't one of 'em, cayde, 'cause bad people don't care 'bout changing.” hand seeks his out and a gentle kiss is pressed to vulnerable wrist , then to his palm before she holds his hand to her heart, cupping his cheek with her other. “talk to me, my love.” tender voice, soft expression & love oh so bright in her eyes. in her Light. “you've helped me lift my anchors. now please, let me do the same for you.”
unprompted. / @solshot.
it had been weeks now, he lost track, of when he stood in that space and bled. he bled and bled, feeling solar, arc, void —– light seeping from his body, from every crevice, from every dip in his body, and when he laid there, feeling his body begin to shut down, he remembered thinking to himself that he was afraid. but that was weeks ago. now … now, he has forgotten what fear felt like. he has forgotten what any kind of emotion feels like.
cold, calculated ; he knew zavala, ikora, sol, neptune all worried about him, but he couldn’t do anything about it. he saw one mission at a time, for the first time his head was so clear. unburdened. he didn’t feel the constant weight of forbidden knowledge, he didn’t feel the pull to the crypt at every constant second of consciousness. he didn’t hear the whisper anymore. have i been reset again? are they the ones to blame for this?
no, he’s not a fool ; he’s picked up on the differences when the crypt is involved, when it’s light, or when it’s his own will. this wasn’t any of them … it was his lack of light. even sundance had been weak recently, and of course ikora was the first to notice this —— thereby denied leaving the tower at all, given he couldn’t even call on his light anymore. but he was everything zavala wanted him to be. he was a leader. he was everything ace wanted him to be. he was responsible. yet why did everything feel so cold? he checked his hands at night, the blue had been dimmed. it was then he realized he hadn’t polished in a week, hadn’t even crossed his mind. logic told him his drive for millennia has been, always, emotionally tied. in the deep crevice of his being, was emotion. he let emotion dictate everything he’s done. without his undying hatred of getting dirty, fueled by disgust, the drive to check up on himself had disappeared.
he hasn’t taken his gloves off since then. decided it was better, he’d already worried most of the people that knew him anyway. he didn’t need to give away one of his most noticeable traits had given way to weakened light. it was interesting, he thought : guardians really are just zombies. shells of the past. the light is what kept them alive, after all, fueled by the self-preservation driven by power, the want to help others ; no matter what a guardian or lightbearer did, they all had some sort of motivation driven by some sort of emotion.
so, what was he? would he ever gain his exhausted light back? would he ever heal? or was he stuck like this until he’d been reset again, leaving his loved ones with an even more broken shell of who he was?
was he truly a good man? he knew what he had done, what he wrought to those around him. he’s taken his fair share of responsibility, but he ran. and when he ran, vengeance reared its ugly head to take out its anger on those he cherished the most, those closest to him. this time it took a bite out of him, by letting ace remember everything. by having them live at the same period again. he was to suffer, it seems. have all of his past mistakes shoved right back in his face, over and over again, for days, weeks ——
talk to me.
lips slowly parted ;
let me lift that anchor.
and emotionless eyes, truly robotic eyes met with those of someone he knew he loved, someone he once truly loved. yet he didn’t want to hurt her. so he stayed quiet, and let his gaze fall back to the floor. he knows if he wasn’t a hollow shell, he’d be telling sol to let go, to let him polish before he touched her, because he hated dirty things, he didn’t want to dirty her. he didn’t want to tarnish her. but all he did was keep his hand there, gentle, eyes coming back up as thumb caressed beneath her eye, slowly, back and forth. he loved her, he did. it shouldn’t have to be like this.
“ … i’m not myself. i don’t know if i’ll get better. sol. “
he couldn’t bond with her, he was too weak, light was amiss. but he felt hers, strong and beautiful, warm, loving. all i feel is you. could feel her reaching out to him, her light beginning to engulf him and he could’ve sworn he’d be a mess right now if circuits didn’t compute. he closes his eyes, lets himself feel her, weak as he was ; she was strong enough for the both of them that she could help him find his way back.
“ i don’t know if i was ever better. maybe you see that, but i don’t. ace doesn’t. i think of myself and i think of a curse. the curse of knowing. the curse of being forced to relive over and over again, the moments i want so badly to just let slip through my hands. ‘cause i’m not a good man, sol. “ tired, his frame looked so tired.
“ darling, you are. what keeps making you think like this ? i can’t help you if you won’t let me. “ soft, her voice wavered with raw desire to just help, to cradle him physically, metaphysically, metaphorically and all. he was quiet again, though a whimper managed to sneak its was through speakers, and forehead came forward until he found the crook of her neck, just high enough that his horn didn’t hurt her. he felt arms come around him, felt her share the moments with him, heard their shared laughter in echoes in his head, heard her confess over and over again. maybe he could begin to believe it if he could just … find a way. he likes to think he’s trying to be a good man. to be a good father, to be a good partner.
“ rest, cayde. it’s time you rested. “ and heavy eyelids already half open then closed the rest of the distance, and he slipped into the depths of sleep. the last thing he felt was the memory of their happiness. and he dreamt of her.
