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Edited by Grays_KS27: 2/17/2018 3:26:56 PM
3

Blank Slate: Crimson Days (Part 1)

Table of Contents https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/225386550/0/0 I materialize in the blue haze of a transmat and drop down into the Tower courtyard. Null and Yvan flash into existence and alight in front of me. Null resumes the conversation where he had left off, "And it landed right on him! The odds of that happening are lower than you getting struck by lighting while riding a unicycle on top of a-" "HAPPY CRIMSON DAYS!" Nat yells enthusiastically, bounding across the courtyard to meet us. Ilya is close behind her, with Quintel and Welkine straggling behind. "Happy- oof!" Null starts to reply, but is cut off when Nat tackles him to the ground. They collapse, laughing merrily. Ilya moves for Yvan, holding out her arms, but he pulls out a knife and points it at her. "Don't even try," he threatens. "Okay, sorry," Ilya apologizes, then comes to me instead. She hugs me and greets, "Hey, Keis. Happy Crimson Days." Welkine and Quintel catch up and wave hello. Nat and Null clamber to their feet, stifling giggles. Ilya release me and huffs, "Traveler above, hug back you plank of wood. Out of all of you, Nat and Null are the only good huggers." "It's a gift," Nat says with an air of queenliness, serenely placing a hand on her chest. "I'm not sure I count," Null snorts, smoothing out his robes, "I just got tackled." "Well, at least you try," Ilya grumps, "The rest of you don't even try." "Hey, I try!" Welkine defends. Ilya crosses her arms and sighs, "And I appreciate that, Welkine. But you're no good at it." "Heh," Yvan derides, "A Titan that can't give a good squeeze? That's pitiful. If I had tear ducts, I just might cry." Nat shifts between Ilya and me, letting the others drift into a separate conversation, and quietly pouts, "Quinty never hugs me back." "Aw, come here, sweetie," Ilya comforts, embracing her and stroking her hair, "All the boys we know are just awkward oafs. Isn't that right, Keis?" I open my mouth, but pause to think of a reply. Blanc takes her chance, gliding in front of me and teasing, "Oh, you have no idea, ladies. My boy is the definition of not being romantic." "Yeah..." Nat sniffles, "But Quinty's MY awkward oaf..." She and Ilya hold each other for a few more seconds. Nat begins to say something else, but they suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, completely changing their mood. "Blanc," I address. "Yes, Keis?" Blanc asks, turning to me and stifling her own laughs. "This is a confusing conversation," I say. "Considering how little you talk to people," Blanc retorts, "I'm sure every conversation confuses you." "You know what, Nat," Ilya chortles, "Today's the perfect day to get all romantic with Quintel." Null butts into the conversation, tailed by Welkine, and inquires, "What are you ladies buzzing about?" "They're exhibiting symptoms of hysteria and bipolar disorder," I inform. Null grins broadly and chides, "Well, we can't have that! Can't celebrate Crimson Days if all the girls we know are in the mental institute." "It would be your fault for only knowing two girls," Yvan scathes, pushing Welkine out of his way and joining our circle, "Let's get started already. You told us you had everything planned, Null." "Right," Null concurs, "So, you all know how the Crucible works during Crimson Days, right?" "I don't," Welkine announces. "No," I reply. Surprised, they all look at me. "Really, Keis?" Quintel asks. "Well, that's interesting," Null comments, "You've never celebrated Crimson Days?" "I didn't realize we had holidays," Blanc explains. "You've been alive longer than any of us," Yvan reminds. Blanc flutters with embarrassment and mumbles, "We... don't spend much time in the City." "So you've never noticed all this?" Nat questions, splaying out her arms to indicate the courtyard. I scan the area, taking in the red and white banners draped over every available surface and billowing in the wind. Hundreds of red petals cover the ground, some forming a trail to the Vanguard Hall, and a massive red wreath hangs on the far wall. "It's pretty," Blanc observes. "Wait," Welkine realizes, "You didn't know we had ANY holidays? What about the Festival of the Lost and the Dawning?" "Those sound nice," Blanc absorbs. "You haven't?!" Nat gasps, "You just missed them! Oh, we have GOT to celebrate them with you." Quintel shoots her down, "They're already way past over." Nat thinks for a moment, then flings her arms up and hollers, "LATE CELEBRATION! I can grab my masks and leftover candy!" "I thought you ate all yours as soon as you got them," Quintel ponders, "And wouldn't they be stale by now?" "Quintel's right," Ilya agrees, "Its too late. We'll wait until this year's celebrations." "Fine," Nat puffs, "But we're gonna make 'em the best ever!" "Sounds good," Welkine approves. "Alright then," Null resumes, "So, to celebrate this holiday, Guardians play doubles in the Crucible. But, when your teammate dies, you get a.... well, I can't really explain it or how it works, but you get a boost to your Light." "Like a rage boost to avenge the death of your loved one!" Nat shouts, pumping a fist in the air and drawing the attention of several Frames and passing Guardians. "Sure, like that," Null agrees. Welkine raises his hand like a schoolboy and questions, "If it's doubles, how can all seven of us play?" "Good question," Null approves, "Normally, we'd only be able to go around in a group of four. But I sweet-talked Shaxx into letting us take up an arena long enough for each of us to play." "How'd you convince Shaxx?" Welkine questions. "I didn't know it was possible to sweet-talk him..." Nat puzzles. "I have my ways," Null chimes, "But my miracle-working doesn't end there. Usually its Elimination, but sometimes they just do scores, like Clash. Most of us are... less competitive, so I requested that." "Yeah," Quintel scoffs good-naturedly, "If by 'less competitive' you mean 'we suck at Crucible.'" "You said it, not me," Welkine chuckles. "Hoo-rah!" Nat laughs, giving him a high five. Null smiles and continues, "We'll take turns. Only two rounds, and one of us will get to go twice. To make it fair, we'll draw straws." "Where are we gonna get-" Quintel begins to ask, but cuts off when Null holds up a fistful of sticks. "Typical," Yvan mutters. "What are those?" Welkine inquires. "Chopsticks," Null answers. "From where?" Nat asks. "A spicy ramen shop," Null replies. "Why," Yvan scolds, gesturing critically with a hand, "In the name. Of the Traveler. Do you have chopsticks from a ramen shop?" "I like to be prepared," Null elaborates, counting the sticks and tucking some into a pouch on his waste. "Prepared for what?" Ilya chuckles, "A giant noodle monster?" They laugh at that. Null passes four chopsticks to Yvan and directs, "Cut a third off of one pair, and a fourth off of the other." Yvan grunts and sinks to a knee. He holds two of the sticks down on the pavement and pulls out a knife, quickly chopping off the ends. He sets down the other two and repeats the process, this time cutting off a little more, then rises and hands them to Null. Null holds them with the uncut chopsticks, concealing the severed ends in his fist. He holds his hands behind his back, mixing the utensils around in his grip, and explains, "There's a chopstick for each of us. We each draw one, and whoever pulls the shorter ones gets to go. The person with a stick the same length as yours is your teammate." He extends his arm into the middle of the group and Nat immediately snatches one. She squeaks with joy when she sees that it's end is cut. Welkine tries next and grabs an uncut stick. Ilya pulls another severed stick, and Nat practically pounces on her to compare the lengths. Their lengths are different, and Null offers his hand to me. I slide out a stick and check the ends. It's intact. Yvan tries and comes out with the same. Quintel reaches over and draws a cut one. Nat grabs his wrist and compares them, yipping with joy when she sees they match. Null holds up the last, the same length as Ilya's, and declares, "Ilya and me versus Nat and Quintel." "Yay!" Nat bubbles, snatching Quintel in a fierce hug. • • •

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