Blank Slate Ch.12: In Honor Of

Table of Contents https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/225386550/0/0 The twelve of us stood and sat in a loose group at the base of the wall. The Fallen had retreated hours ago, and the Vanguard had finally given the all-clear. The bodies of our three fallen comrades lay side by side on the ground in front of us, on their backs, with their guns on their chests and their hands folded over them. They almost looked peaceful. On the left was the Hunter who had died first. His armor was colored in grays and blues, with a few blast marks across the chest plate. There was soot from an explosion on his leg and cloak. We had only found one shattered and blackened piece of his Ghost's shell, and it sat next to his head. The Defender had known him, and sat next to him, holding his limp hand while stifling sobs. The Titan was in the middle. His bulky armor was entirely white. There were blast marks and slashes from shock blades all over him. His dead Ghost rested next to his head, a gash cut through its shell. None of us knew him, but a Hunter sat by him, resting a hand on his shin. The Huntress was on the right. Her armor was purple; dark in some places, light in others. She was completely covered in blast marks. Her dead Ghost sat by her head. No one knew her, either. But I kneeled next to her, placing my hand on her shoulder. She had come off of the wall to save me, and paid the price. But I had been able to revive because of her sacrifice. We'd all heard the status report. Twilight Gap had been a nightmare, and everywhere else wasn't much better. The counterattack had cleared all the walls and saved the day. But a lot of Guardians had died, and we'd been forced to give up areas of the city. Our defenses were too weakened to defend the entire City if another attack came, so we were pulling in and abandoning what we had to. Ghosts had compiled lists of everyone's positions, so the Vanguard would be able to find the names of every Guardian who had died. "The Speaker wants everyone at the Tower," a Ghost announced, "He thinks a speech would do us some good. They've put together teams to handle the bodies." I heard grunts of acknowledgement and footsteps behind me. The Hunter stood and moved away from the dead Titan. A Warlock helped the Defender up, and walked her away as she sniffled. A hand rested on my shoulder. "KS," Salem murmured. "It's time to go, Keis," Blanc said. I looked down at the three dead Guardians, and a feeling of loss washed over me. For some reason, it seemed as if I'd felt it countless times before, though I knew I never had in this life. We had won. And we had lost. • • • I studied the rocket launcher. The tube for the shells was black. Its body was white. It was adorned with gold, including a wolf head with wings set on the front like a headpiece. KS stood next to me, taking in his identical weapon. A number of other Guardians filled the courtyard, each holding one of the rocket launchers. The Speaker had once again gathered the Guardians who fought at Twilight Gap (that's what we were calling it, since it was the center of the attack). That had been weeks ago. He had given us a speech, and we had wearily celebrated our victory. Afterwards, I had gone out with KS and the other ten Guardians from our section of the wall. We'd gone to a bar, and the Guardian who had suggested a valiant charge bought us each a drink. Even KS had sipped at one. Exos couldn't get drunk. And neither could Guardians, since our Light kept our bodies clean and in peak condition. That didn't stop some of us from buying more drinks and trying to drown away the sorrow. We all chipped in to buy the Defender more drinks after she ran out of Glimmer. She cried as she chugged down bottle after bottle, and we all stayed with her until she stopped. When she was ready to go, we all left. The Speaker signaled for our attention. He stood over the stairwell leading to the Vanguard Hall, and addressed us. "Guardians," he said, "Weeks ago, you all fought together to protect the Last City, the Traveler, and humanity as a whole. Many of your friends and fellow Guardians fell during the terrible battle. But you still live. You survived, to remember them and protect what they died protecting." There were many somber nods. The Speaker swept his arm, indicating all of us, and continued. "Each one of you has been given a rocket launcher. They are called the Gjallarhorns, and they were made as a symbol. They were forged from the armor of our fallen comrades." Everyone looked back down to the weapons with newfound awe and sadness. "They are a symbol," the Speaker announced, "A symbol of your survival. The survival of the wills of those who fell. They are a symbol of honor. They honor all of you; each and every Guardian that fought, lived, and died at Twilight Gap. Without all of you, everything would be lost. I thank you, the City thanks you, for your service." The Tower staff and some citizens, who were standing at the edges of the courtyard, applauded us. We looked to them, accepting their thanks. The Speaker walked down some steps and into the throng of Guardians, thanking the ones he passed, as he made his way back to his chambers. We all kept tight grips on the Gjallarhorns as we fought the tears that welled up at the thought of our dead companions. "Salem," KS muttered. I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were glued to his Gjallarhorn. "Did we win?" he asked. I hesitated, the image of the three Guardians lying peaceful in a row flashing through my mind, then answered, "I think so, KS."