Crochet Class: Seventh Stitch

--- Lord Shaxx was on the warpath. The Guardians in the hallways wisely stayed out his projected course, sometimes by leaping through doorways or out windows to avoid being barreled through by the hulking mass of the Crucible quartermaster. It wasn’t exactly rare to see Shaxx in this kind of mood. In fact, it was quite common so at least everyone knew it would be a very bad idea to get in his way, no matter how far up the food chain one was. It only took one object lesson to teach the unenlightened. He stomped up to the door that led to Zavala’s private workroom and slammed it open with one massive fist. A ghost he was unfamiliar with zoomed over and intercepted the door before it crashed against the wall. “Shhh.” It hissed, apparently unaware of what a bad idea it was. Shaxx puffed himself up. “How dare…” “Shaxx, do be quiet.” Zavala snapped; authority laced through his quiet tone. Shaxx blinked behind his faceplate, finally seeing through the haze of red enough to take in that he had stumbled onto a very strange scene. Zavala sat in an armchair, one hand busy with pen and paper, his eyes on the shuffling pages scattered across the small table pulled up beside him. The other hand supported the cheek of a Hunter he knew very well indeed, not the best at Crucible, [i]far [/i]from it, but very determined. Her hands were wrapped around the Commander’s forearm, and her sleeping face looked extremely contented with her current position. Few times in his life had Shaxx been completely derailed. This proved to be one of those times. “I’ll…” He backed up a pace or two. “I’ll just come back later, shall I?” “That would be best.” Zavala agreed, still not looking up, just using his free hand to shuffle another piece of paper to the top of the pile. “Right.” Shaxx backed through the door, pulling it gently shut with one giant hand. Very faintly through the closed door he could hear Zavala’s voice. “Ghost, lock the door, would you?” “Of course, Commander.” The ghost replied, and Shaxx heard the snick of the bolts hitting home. Shaxx stood there for a good long time, as the scene he knew he had seen refused to process as a legitimate memory. For as long as he had known Zavala, and that had been a long time, ever since Zavala had stumbled into the campsite that would eventually become the last city, he had never known the Commander to be swayed by a female. But perhaps it had only been a kindness, the story behind which he would never ask. Zavala had always been too nice for his own good. That settled, Lord Shaxx turned and strode his way back to his command center, his original grievance forgotten…for now. --- Alia shifted, stretching a few kinks out of her back. She must have slept in an odd position, but having slept so little lately she would take a few twinges over the alternative. She opened her eyes, blinking away the bleariness, to find herself in a room made unfamiliar by darkness. Or perhaps just unfamiliar in general. She was used to sleeping in odd places when out in the wild so it took her only a few moments to orient herself. The last thing she remembered was walking past the staring Titans to take her usual seat then…nothing. Until now, when she woke, warm and rested, more relaxed than she had been in months, leaning against… Her eyes widened and, being careful not to make any sudden movements, she shifted just enough to see what, or rather, who she’d woken up with. Swirling silver lines, subtle in the light, but glowing in the darkness with beautiful pattern just beneath the scalp, rested against her shoulder. His hand was gripped in hers. Stark black lashes beneath jetty brows rested against pale blue cheeks. She couldn’t help but admire the harsh beauty of the man she had woken up with, even as her mind reeled in shock and denial. How the [i]hell[/i] had this happened, one part of her screamed, while another part of her was silently delighted. “Toby?” She whispered, nearly silent. “What’s going on?” [i]You’re looking much better, Guardian.[/i] Her ghost’s smug voice chimed in her mind. [i]I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting the Commander to stay with you so long, but after you had a death grip on his arm…[/i] “I did [i]what[/i]?” She hissed. [i]It wasn’t his dominant hand, so he was still able to work with the other. [/i]The ghost explained, unhelpfully. [i]Frankly, I think he needed the rest as much as you.[/i] Zavala sighed, and she instinctively snuggled in closer to his side, a warm affection spreading unexpectedly through her. “Toby, is this your doing?” She murmured, unable to resist resting her free hand on the Commander’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of each even breath. [i]I merely asked him to let you sleep, and pointed out that you seemed to feel able to in his presence rather than otherwise.[/i] Because of the whispers. Ever since she had returned from that hive of pain and darkness the whispers had been there in the back of her mind, behind her eyelids, in the silence of a darkened room. Until now, when all she could hear was the even tides of Zavala’s breath. She was torn between thanking her ghost and shaking him until his optic rattled in his shell. She settled for saying nothing. It was impossible to say how much time had passed before the Commander stirred, dark lashes opening. She looked down into his eyes as sleep cleared almost instantly. “You’ve awoken.” Alia couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but raise her hand to touch his cheek. “So have you.” He stilled, and she let her hand drop. “Thank you for letting me sleep.” He sat up, and she immediately felt the loss. “The welfare of all Guardians is chief among my concerns.” he said stiffly. “Yes, sir.” She replied. His sudden distance hurt. She looked away. “Alia.” “Yes, sir.” “Alia,” He repeated, more insistently. She glanced back at him. Her gaze snagged on the look in his eyes, so intense in the darkness. Her breath caught. “I…do not like to admit that…” He cleared his throat. “There are certain matters that I... My duties do not allow for…” He stopped, took a breath. “Alia, I find you enchanting in a way that I am not entirely comfortable with.” Her face must have been a picture because he once again cleared his throat, looking away. She reached out and touched his cheek again, this time with more confidence as she turned his head back so she could smile into his eyes. “Zavala.” She told him seriously. “That must be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.” “That doesn’t seem possible.” He replied doubtfully. “So where do we go from here?” She asked, resting her hand on his arm. “I’m…not certain.” he said. “We both have duties. We have commitments. We have very little free time.” “We also have crochet.” She lilted, running her fingers along his bicep. “We do, at that.” He replied, eyes, serious and uncertain, fixed on hers. “Perhaps that is where we start.” --- [i]Your stress levels have reduced by fifteen percent, Guardian.[/i] “Shut up, Toby.” Alia grinned. --- “So I hear you did all your work from home yesterday.” “Your point, Cayde?” “Oh, nothing…nothing. Hey, did you happen to see one of my Hunters? Her fireteam came looking for her when she missed their lunch date. I think she’s in your crochet class?” “That will be all, Cayde.” “You had a class yesterday, right?” “Do we need to discuss your frame, Cayde?” “Ah, ha. I’ll shut up now.” --- Eighth Stitch: https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/1371758/226372084/0/0 Master List: https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/1371758/226373948/0/0