(Author note: I have been and will remain a writer in the destiny universe. No news changes this. For anyone interested, yes, I will continue posting my guardian’s story. This is personal anyway, for reasons some of you probably don’t understand because it’s been years since I’ve been in these forums. This isn’t about how many likes I get. It’s for the soul. Anyway, back to it!) “By the way, Nightcloud… What’s [i]my[/i] name?” A pause, shell twirling. Oh, right. Her name. That would be quite necessary. “Well… what do [i]you[/i] want it to be?” the ghost asks. Her newly resurrected guardian blinks, processing the question. Amber gaze flitting around the surrounding area of the Dreaming City, over crystal and dancing insects and blooming flowers. Her eyes come rest on one in particular, petals with the deepest shades of violet and red. “What’s that?” Nightcloud follows her gaze. “That’s a flower—“ “I know [i]that![/i]“ The awoken flashes a crooked smile, exasperated. Nightcloud’s metaphorical heart soars. “But what’s it called?” Nightcloud turns her eye back to the flower. Unapologetically bold; its growth defiant in the face of the final shape. “…It’s a wild rose.”