#and it has been 8 days now. 8 days of damn near endless agony. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chasesthelight · 7 years

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la lune.

Every mission comes with its downtime. [cayde&andal, also on ao3]

It is a widely known fact that a Hunter’s only companions are his wits and his gun. Ever since the first Guardian was risen, they have wandered the wilds alone searching for glory. Hunters are useful members of fireteams for their speed and accuracy, but it is no surprise to anyone that they seldom seek a team. They liberate themselves of the City’s walls and disappear into the wilderness: to scout, to stalk, to hunt. It is quite unusual, then, for a Hunter to willingly work alongside another Guardian in the field. Even more unusual still is finding two Hunters joined at the hip, routinely working and fighting together on missions. With the number of successful kills under their belts, nobody in the Tower would dare breath a word arguing against the teamwork of Cayde-6 and Andal Brask. They were a rare pairing, but an exceedingly effective one.

“Andal.” It was the first word he had spoken in hours. The Cosmodrome was completely silent. Not even the hum of ships going into orbit or the gentle chirping of bugs could be heard. Cayde leant forward, much to the protests of his stiff ligaments after being locked in the same place for so long. A cold wind rushed past him, leaving no sound.

“Andal.” he whispered again in a slightly higher octane. He inched over to the edge of the outcrop where another figure was sitting. Another man, hunched over a sniper rifle, unmoving. If it weren't for the small clouds of breath in front of his mouth, Cayde could have thought that he was dead. “Andal.”

“Cayde.” His friend hissed back without even looking at him. He knew the tone of Andal’s voice well, the We’re on a mission right now, Cayde, don't do this shit tone. Andal was still looking down the sight of the rifle, focused on the task at hand. Cayde sighed, tucking his knees under his chin.

They had been sent out to the Cosmodrome on the request of the Vanguard to track down and eliminate a high value Fallen target, a key individual in the House of Devils. The intelligence was somewhat spotty, but it had sent them to a small nest among the industrial rubble of Skywatch where they would intercept the target in one of its regular meeting spots. It was a perfect task for Andal, who was methodical and clever and one of the best damn snipers the City had ever seen. He was just as deadly accurate with a high caliber rifle as he was with an Arc-imbued blade in his hands. Of course, every sniper needs a spotter so Cayde was here too, ready to put a bullet in any rogue Fallen or Hive that tried to jump a distracted Andal.

Yet, they had been here for nearly 8 hours and had seen no signs of life, much less the Fallen they were looking for. Cayde had put most of his internal systems on standby about 3 hours ago, just shy of full hibernation. Ever since they had arrived, Andal had been sitting there with the rifle, waiting and waiting and waiting. He is good at what he does but he could also be incredibly stubborn about missions like these. Andal might not mind sitting and waiting for hours on end but Cayde had inspected his handcannon for chipped paint so many times that he swore he was going to go mad soon.

“Andal, buddy, look. I know you're probably gonna lecture me on the importance of following the mission protocol and doing everything properly but it's been hours and nobody has shown up.” No response, but Andal’s fingers curled around the barrel tensed. “Come on, our guy isn't coming tonight. Just put the gun down.”

Slowly, Andal pulled away from the rifle and sat up, letting out a sigh. “You think the intel was right?”

“Who knows. Maybe the Devils realised how shitty and cold Old Russia is and moved to Hawaii?”

The comment landee him a punch on the arm, and even though it doesn't really hurt, he uttered a little ouch. “Rude, Brask, very rude.”

Andal grinned at him, the tiniest bit of tongue poking through his teeth. “You know I could report you for that? Compromising the integrity of the mission and talking back to a senior Guardian.” Cayde knew that he was joking. While Andal was still technically his mentor in the eyes of the Vanguard, they had long since passed the point of being equals in the field.

“You could but you won't. You’d miss my roguish charm too much.”

“Oh so that's what you're calling it?” Cayde punched Andal back. His friend let out a small yelp of pain, holding his arm in feigned agony and screwing up his face at the Exo. If he could, Cayde would be mimicking his expression. Instead, he settles for a smug smile. Andal shook his head, hood falling around his shoulders, and ran a hand lightly over his hair. Short dark curls with buzzed sides: a classic and practical Andal Brask look. The circles under his eyes were darker than usual, and now they had stopped talking Cayde noticed how exhausted Andal looked. He was about to say something when Andal turned his head out towards the horizon, dark eyes searching the sky. “Cayde, look, the stars are out.”

Cayde looked out at the scene in front of them. Above the Skywatch, the black sky is painted with swirls and sprinkles of white. The lights in the City hid most of the stars, but out here they were clear as day. It was strange sitting here, looking up and knowing he had been out in that endless void, surrounded by dying stars.

“Before the Collapse,” he started talking before he even realised it and couldn’t seem to stop the words, “there were times where I’d be out on a tour and when we - the rest of my squad and I - couldn't sleep, we would watch the stars, trace the constellations. No matter where we went, they were always the same.” The memory is fragmented like the rest of his from his previous life. They were in Germany on that one tour, camping near the remnants of a wall that was allegedly pre-Traveler. He can't remember the names or faces of his squad members but their laughter ebbs and flows in his mind.

Andal looked towards him, dark eyes shining in the moonlight, brows knit together. “What's a constellation?”

“They're like pictures, you connect the dots of the stars and they form objects. Here.” Cayde shifted closer to Andal so their knees were touching. He pointed at a cluster of stars high above the horizon. “There's the Big Dipper. See, the four stars form a box, and then the handle out there.” Andal hummed an affirmation, and Cayde pointed to another cluster further out west. “And out there is Orion, the great hunter.”

“Hunter, like us?”

“Sort of. The story goes that Orion was a ancient and legendary warrior that was killed by a scorpion. The gods felt pity for him, so they placed him and his two dogs in the sky along with all the animals he hunted. They placed the scorpion in the sky too, but far away from Orion so he would never be hurt again.”

Andal leant his head on Cayde’s shoulder and it took all his strength for Cayde not to tense up at the gesture. He looked down at the human who was yawning and struggling to keep his eyes open. “You good, Andal?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little sleepy.” Considering how quiet his voice was, Cayde suspected that ‘a little sleepy’ was an understatement. “Keep talking.”

So Cayde did. He talked of Orion’s dogs, Canis Major and Minor, and the captive princess Andromeda, and the Zodiac constellations. He traced out patterns across the sky, tales from times long before the Traveler or the Darkness, tales from people who gazed up at the stars and weaved their history into the night eternal. His stories were accompanied by the rhythm of Andal’s breathing and occasional hums. By the time he had exhausted his knowledge of every legend he knew, the human had fallen fast asleep on his shoulder.

Cayde knew that they should move away from the exposed edge of the outcrop, they stuck out too much and risk being Hive breakfast. The sight of Andal asleep and peaceful made him hesitate, not having the heart to wake his friend up. Gently, Cayde moved Andal so he was lying on his lap, hopefully more comfortable than his shoulder. Adjusting the sniper rifle to his grasp, he pinged a neural relay.

“Ghost, are you there?”

“Always.” Cayde smiled.

“I don't suppose you could do me a favour and keep an eye out while Sleeping Beauty and I have a nap?” If Andal ever found out he had called him Sleeping Beauty, he would end up as Thrall bait.

“Of course. I’ll wake you up if I detect anyone.”

“Thanks, bud.”

With a content sigh and his finger wrapped around the rifle trigger, Cayde closed his eyes.

#destiny #cayde-6 #andal brask #destiny fic #destiny the game #i wrote this back in august i think and only just realised i never posted it on tungle #anyways. more andal content please bungie #ej fics

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startrek-z · 6 years

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STZ IV: Part 2

“Entering orbit around Sira-8,” Saavik announced. “Thank you lieutenant. Mr. Spock, fetch Doctor McCoy and meet me in the transporter room,” Kirk ordered. He had a sinking feeling about this.

*** Sand was horribly thick in the air. Even with his hat pressed against his mouth, Link could still taste the dry grains sticking to the inside of his cheeks. He had left the lab only an hour ago. Several days had passed since he’d tried to contact Pavel, and still no answer had come. The water was running terribly low; it wouldn’t last another night, and Zelda had grown too ill to travel. He’d had to wrestle himself away from her side, knowing he needed to try to find water for them if they had any hope at all of surviving. But he knew in his heart that the chances were high that he’d probably never see her again. Things only got worse from there as the wind picked up. With barely any vegetation left, he soon found himself at the mercy of a dust storm. Coughs shook his dangerously thin frame, leaving him feeling giddy and weak. He pushed on, though. If there was a chance, he didn’t want to fail Zelda, like he’d failed the rest of Hyrule. It was so hot…but he wasn’t sweating. His breath came in short, strained gasps. If only he could find some shade…maybe some water. He hadn’t allowed himself a drink in nearly two days… and the food had run out nearly a week ago. Link groaned, pausing to rub his temples as a persistent headache worsened. ‘gotta keep going…’ he thought to himself, before struggling on. The sun, though hidden in the airborne grime, beat mercilessly down on him. Hours seemed like days–step after step after step. Dizziness started to wash over him, and he found himself fighting to keep his balance. Everything looked the same. The Hero of a Hyrule that no longer existed found himself wondering if he’d gotten anywhere–had he been walking in circles? There was no way to know for certain. Link paused and squinted. Was that a person, standing in the distance? A fuzzy dark shape seemed to be looming ahead of him. Thinking that maybe it was another survivor, he started to walk as quickly as his dizziness would allow towards them. Suddenly, he lurched forward; the ground seemed to disappear completely. Wind was whistling shrilly in his ears. His sluggish mind groped helplessly for an explanation; his vision was clouded with swirling vortexes of brown and tan in every direction. What was up? Where was down? What had he been doing? Why was there so much wind? There was a crack as he slammed into the first protruding ledge. His breath hitched in his throat as pain flooded his senses. He couldn’t even manage a scream as the world continued to spin dizzily around him. For a moment, he saw blue eyes and red hair. She was saying something; he couldn’t make it out. 'Malon…wait, I don’t understand…’ The last thing he remembered was a sickening thud as the world went black and still. Wind was whistling shrilly in his ears as he came to. A harsh cough ripped through him, resulting in sharp gasps of pain. Fire consumed his ribs when he tried to breath. He tried to push himself upright, but the movement was too painful to bare. Nausea clawed ruthlessly at his insides, and his body convulsed violently as he heaved. Nothing came up. The endless expanse of brown swirled dizzily around him. The sensation of floating came and went as he rested his forehead on the sandy earth. Sand tickled his dry, scratchy throat with every breath, threatening to make him cough again. The pain…if only it’d go away so he could move. It seized him up again as he coughed, sending him into a whirlpool of agony like nothing he’d ever experienced. 'Hold on…’ The voice seemed to drift its way into his ears. Link fought to pick up his head, dim blue eyes wearily searching the sandy clouds for its source. No one was there… 'Help is coming, just hold on.’ “Pav…” he whispered weakly. The gritty taste of sand was thick in his mouth. Everything was fading; darkness crept anxiously into the sides of his vision, waiting to engulf him. “I’m sorry…I..i can’t.” *** “Good lord, what happened?” Bones muttered in disbelief. Kirk was too stunned to form a response. They had beamed down onto Sira-8, and the sight that greeted them was anything but pleasant. The once lush, green planet now looked little more than a dust bowl, void of life. While the two humans gaped at the condition of the planet, Spock consulted his tricorder, his expression as emotionless as ever. “The closest life form is approximately 30 metres ahead of us,” the Vulcan stated, looking up into the endless clouds of dust. “It is very faint.” “Well don’t just stand there, let’s go!” McCoy grumbled with concern, starting ahead without waiting for a response. Kirk and Spock followed in silence. It wasn’t long before they spotted the crumpled form. McCoy broke into a clumsy jog, hindered slightly by the bulky yellow bio suit he was wearing. All three had decided to wear the gaudy equipment, not knowing what would await them planetside. Kirk and Spock approached in time to hear Bones curse with worry. Kirk soon understood why. He barely recognized the motionless, dust-covered boy as Link–angry red cuts and scrapes crisscrossed on what skin they could see, suggesting a fall of some sort. He was dangerously thin; it was far too easy to spot ribs beneath the his tattered green garment. His cheeks were shallow and unnaturally pale, and dark shadows had settled under his eyes. McCoy was holding his tricorder over the boy, watching the screen with furrowed brows. “This is not good,” he finally murmured. “He’s severly dehydrated, on top of heat stroke and a pretty bad concussion. Some broken bones, too…must’ve gotten caught in a dust storm and fell off this cliff here. And it doesn’t take a damned doctor to know he’s severely underweight,” he looked gravely back at the other two officers. “Pavel was right. The Reliant wouldn’t have made it in time. How he’s alive even now is beyond me.” Kirk nodded, biting his lip. “Spock, are there any others?” “Yes, one other. It is not far from here, and not nearly as faint.” “Well I’m taking Link back to the ship,” McCoy announced. “You two go claim the other one.” Bones called for a beam up, and soon he and Link had disappeared. “Alright Mr. Spock. Lead the way.” Spock did not reply, but strode purposely toward the nearest dwelling: the laboratory. *** “Admiral,” Saavik said, turning in her seat. “The Reliant has just dropped out of warp near the edge of the system.” “Right on time,” was Kirk’s reply. “Actually sir, they are five point three minutes late,” She smoothly informed him. Mr. Spock nodded in approval. Kirk shrugged, deciding it best not to explain his reasoning. “Lieutenant Saavik, please send Mr. Chekov straight to sickbay when he arrives. Mr. Spock and I will meet him there,” Kirk ordered, raising from his chair. “Aye sir,” Saavik replied crisply as she took the conn. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Link knew he should be in pain, but there wasn’t any; Only heavy darkness. He thought he heard voices, but they sounded so far away, he couldn’t recognize or understand them. His mind was sluggishly coming back. His entire body felt leaden and weighted down, but the feel of cloth at his fingertips suggested he was lying in a bed. A bed…? Memories started to filter back into his weary mind. The fall, the sand, the heat, the pain, everything. 'Where am I?’ He cautiously opened his eyes, wincing faintly as light seared into cracked eyelids. As the room slowly came into focus, he saw three blurry faces looking down on him. “Welcome back,” said a familiar, gruff voice. It wasn’t Pavel. Link blinked a few times, his vision clearing only slightly. “This…this isn’t the Reliant,” he murmured, dazed. “No,” another voice told him, “you’re on the Enterprise.” The Enterprise. Finally, he could see again. The familiar, yet somewhat aged faces of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were gazing down at him from above. “Captain?” he managed softly, focusing on Kirk. “Jim is no longer a captain,” Spock corrected him, “he is an admiral, and I am Captain.” The Hylian was too drained to be annoyed by the correction. He couldn’t even be sure that he wasn’t imagining all of this. “Well Jim, the worst is past,” Dr. McCoy stated. He had been scanning Link’s vitals. “A few more days of bed rest and a few good meals, he’ll be good as new.”

An urgent thought pressed its way into his sluggish head. Real or not, he needed to know. “Did you…did you get Zelda? Is she–” “She’s alright,” McCoy reassured him, recognizing the effort it was taking for him to talk. “She’s in the next room.” “Was there anyone else…?” McCoy and Kirk exchanged regretful looks, before McCoy responded with a small shake of his head. “Our scanners didn’t pick up any other signs of life. I’m sorry, Link.” He hadn’t even realized how tightly he’d been clinging to the hope that others had survived. The confirmation that he and Zelda had really been the only ones out of an entire world full of living things and people left a heavy ache in his chest. “…where’s Pavel?” “He’s on his way,” Kirk reassured him, his tone gentle and fatherly in the wake of news that had clearly wounded the young man. “They were a little too far away to help. We happened to be passing by, and he asked us to come and help you in his stead. He should be here in just a few minutes.”

#to the end

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