Rust and Water: Part Four - Memory of Rains

A/N: If anyone read this before I made a major edit, my apologies. --- He turned, arm outstretched. The Hunter took the proffered offer of help and used his bulk to stand. He was unmoved by her weight, the weight of her armor, a Titan in all regards. She held onto his hand a little longer than needed. He did not protest. Perhaps he even smiled a little under his concealing helmet. She wanted to think that he smiled. The Hunter surveyed their surroundings. “We won.” She felt moved to say, her eyes on the shattered landscape. He nodded, the battle-torn landscape reflected off his shining helm. “The walls still stand, the Traveler still keeps us.” “But at such cost.” She murmured as they stood and watched the smoke thin in the distance. Just before they transmatted away, leaving behind so many who would not share in their victory, she released his gauntleted hand. --- “What do you think happened here?” Herro-7 asked his ghost, his voice hushed. He carefully walked the cavernous hall, keeping one eye on the crumbling ceiling, the other on the scattered Fallen corpses. They were flung in all directions, ether drained, two and four arms at impossible angles cast across the rubble-strewn floor. Herro knelt to examine their armor. “Looks like House Kings to me?” He murmured, voice rising on a question as he held out his hand to release his ghost into the still, waiting air. Ghosty formed from a gathering of light, floated a short distance and scanned a few of the corpses. “I have to agree.” He spun to survey the entire room. “A lot of them.” “Well, there were.” Herro shrugged, standing and brushing off his hands. “So…theories?” “I’m detecting faint traces of void light.” “This doesn’t look like a Warlock’s work to me.” Herro nudged one of the bodies with his boot. The dreg’s arm flopped limply away. “They don’t usually go in for knives.” “Do you think we’ve found her?” Herro shook his head. “Where she’s been anyway.” He took his scout rifle from his back and checked it. It was none the worse for wear despite the constant choking humidity in the air. “If it’s even her.” “Who else could it be?” Ghosty pointed out. Herro shrugged again, tilting his head up as water started falling through one of the many holes in the ceiling. “And now it’s raining. Great.” “Look on the bright side.” Herro waited for his ghost to continue. “Well?” “I was hoping you’d come up with something.” His ghost admitted. Herro walked the floor, looking for a dry place free of Fallen bodies. It took a while. Finally he stopped in one of the corners and sat on a vine-covered pile of rubble to watch the rain that was now sluicing through the gaps in the masonry. “Do you think she knows we’re here?” He asked, taking the quiet moment to check his cloak for signs of wear or mold. Ghosty moved away, examining every corner of the room. “If she doesn’t then she’s not paying attention. You’ve made enough noise to alert a dozen Guardians to your presence.” He scanned another corpse, “And at least twenty Fallen.” “I do try.” Herro said modestly. “All right, on the theory she knows we’re here, and she is who we think she is, why do you think she hasn’t approached us?” “Maybe she’s intimidated by your charm and grace.” “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Herro chided. “What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.” Ghosty bobbed. “She doesn’t want to be found, does she?” It wasn’t a question. Not really. Herro could think of no other reason to spend so many years in this watery ruin than a rather avid desire to stay hidden. “That seems to be the case.” The ghost agreed. Herro stood, slapping his hands on his thighs with a damp thump. “Well, guess it’s time to head back.” Ghosty zoomed to hover in front of his Guardian’s face. “You can’t be serious!” “We found proof she’s here…” “That someone’s here.” “And we know she…” “Or he.” “Doesn’t want anything to do with us.” “We don’t know that.” “Find her, or her ghost, those were the terms.” “Cayde won’t accept it if you leave without actually finding her.” Ghosty spun in irritation. “Is he going to come here to find out?” “Maybe not.” The ghost stilled, voice becoming sly. “But how much would you want to bet that if you go now, without finding her, in a week’s time you’re going to have to start all over again.” Herro stopped in shock. “You’d [i]tell[/i] on me?” The ghost’s lack of answer was answer enough. “So much for loyalty.” Herro snarled, moving back to his dry corner and wrapping himself in his damp cloak. “Wake me when the rain’s stopped.” “You’re going to sleep here?” The ghost asked. “With all these…” “Yes, and I’m not talking to you.” Herro grumped. “Traitor.” --- The Hunter stood in the lee of a broken wall, cloak wrapped close around her to protect her weapons from the wind-driven squall. The other had taken unexpected steps, had come too close, had ventured too far. She wiped her fingers across her faceplate, clearing away the water that smeared her vision. Her hands disappeared back under her cloak. Unconsciously, she rubbed her fingers. https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/1371758/226743757/0/0 - Part 5 https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/1371758/226526566/0/0 - Table of Contents