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Nymphodorus sighs, the whisper of his breath echoing in the sublevels of the Tower. The signs of the Vanguard’s hasty effort to get back to regular scheduling really shows in the stacks of half-opened boxes and precariously stacked piles of materials taking residence in the lesser-seen parts of the Tower. The kiss of metal at his feet echo his footsteps and a particularly loud clang has Nymph stiffen up, stopping to listen to the cacophonous noise die down before resuming his creeping pace through the halls. His Ghost tuts at him, floating at eye-level so he’s forced to make eye contact.
“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat, Nymphie! Nothing’s gonna get you in the Tower! Nothing I can’t bring you back from, anyway.”
Nymphodorus gasps, his warm gray eyes widening in fear. “Don’t say something like that, Nova! I’m freaking out as is. I just feel like I shouldn’t be down here.”
He stops to inspect a couple rolls of fabric, teetering on one another in a teepee formation. He takes a moment to gently disengage them from one another and prop them up against the wall.
Nova bobs in front of him again, “That is by far one of your worst excuses yet! Zavala gave you a direct order to figure out what this rogue Lightbearer is doing! If that means sussing him out in the dank underbelly of the Tower, then that’s damn well what we’re gonna do!”
Nymph pauses from where he was dreamily admiring the swath of fabric in one of the rolls, a deep burgundy velvet, no doubt from one of the many banners and pavilions Eva Levante spends her time in between festivals making. The bolts of fabric all clatter to the ground. Nymph jumps in the air, hovering for a few seconds as magenta smoke shimmers in the air around him.
Nova sighs, “Not again! Nymphodorus, we have GOT to work on your reactions. It’s unbecoming of a Guardian!”
Her words fall into open air, as the space where Nymphodorus once stood is now vacant.
There’s a moment of quiet as Nova bobs in the air, before her sensors pick up the slightest bit of disturbance as Nymph wrings his hands together.
His voice comes out small, “I-I panicked… I’m sorry, Nova. I called out to the Light to cloak me and it heeded that call.”
Nova doesn’t need a visual on her guardian to know his face is crumpled with guilt. It tugs at her empathy servos and she does a gentle lap around the disturbance.
“Well, if the Light heeded your call then They must know something we do not. Let’s try and use your time of invisibility wisely and see what kind of intel we can get on the rogue Lightbearer.”
There’s a rustle of fabric as Nymphodorus nods his head wildly, thankful to have such an understanding Ghost. He knows he’s not exactly cream of the crop, but Nova shows him the same devotion you would see any top Guardian get, like that hot shot Hunter, Maker’s Mark, and her fiercely devoted Ghost, Killcount.
They resume their crawl through the long hallway, as Nymph stays close to the wall and Nova floats low to the ground. They come to an opening and hear low voices trading back and forth. This section has been eerily void of any people, Guardians or otherwise, so the sudden indication of life has Nymph hoping they found their guy.
“I’m picking up two voices, one male, one female. I’ll try to transmit what they’re saying from here-“
Nova’s front screen distorts as soundwaves drift across the tiny screen.
“-saying is that he’s willing to pay a pretty penny for your… services. Consider it an honor, as he only employs the best.”
“Oh, from the way you look, I believe it, sister. You are one hot tamale. However… Gambit ain’t really a spectator sport, if you catch my drift. You’re either killin’ or gettin’ killed out there. Not really any room for someone as high and mighty as the Spider to sit and watch. Now if he wanted in, well, that’s a whole other ballgame.”
The woman scoffs, “A simple no and fuck off would have worked. I don’t have time to waste listening to you dance around your answers like a goddamn ballerina.”
“O-ho! So the kitten does have claws. I was worried Spider’s newest pet assassin wouldn’t live up to her mighty, mighty reputation.”
The metal-on-metal shriek of a knife out of its sheath cuts through the air, “And I was worried the rumors that you were an annoying prick were made up and I wouldn’t get the pleasure of gutting you like a fish. Normally, I take money to do this… but I can make an exception this time.”
The man starts to laugh but it comes to an abrupt stop. There’s a choked gurgle and the sound of liquid spattering on the ground. Nymphodorus makes an involuntary noise of anguish and Nova hears his hand slap over his mouth, muffling the end of the noise.
There’s a tense moment where time crawls to a stop. Nymphodorus holds his breath as he waits. A moment later, the sound of heeled boots clack towards the entrance Nymphodorus is flattened behind. A tall Awoken woman emerges from the side room, looking unfazed as she leaves a momentary corpse in her trail. Nymphodorus is still holding his breath as she passes the threshold, praying she passes him by with no issues, when she stops dead in her tracks. It takes a fraction of a second for her eyes to locate his and he can see her electric blue pupils narrow. Her hand shoots out with Arc energy and Nymphodorus cries out in pain as the electrifying energy materializes him into view once more. The Awoken has a tight, choking grip on the back of his neck as she hauls him into the side room she was just about to leave. He’s half-guided, half-dragged into the room and gets tossed to the ground next to a sticky pool of blood.
Nymphodorus scrambles back from the viscous liquid and looks wildly around the room, trying to gauge his escape. Instead, he is caught bobbing his head between the terrifying Awoken woman and a Human male, who is rubbing his throat and eyeing the Awoken rather thoughtfully.
“Well, damn!” He laughs, “I didn’t think you’d really do that! On Tower ground, no less. You are crazy. Kinda got me fallin’ in love.”
His laughter grows when he sees the look of disgust on her periwinkle face.
His eyes narrow to the generalist-shelled ghost hovering at his shoulder, “You’re done here, aren’t you? Get outta my sight before I blast ya to pieces!”
The ghost darts off, silent, and starts to do some scans at a machine in the back of the room. There’s a big container in the center, with a mysterious swirling element inside. The color shifts from dark to light, and Nymphodorus feels unnerved just looking at it a moment too long.
“Keep your comments to yourself, Drifter. We have a rat, no doubt sent down here by Zavala to check up on you.”
Drifter eyes Nymph, who is doing his best not to cower, “A rat? More like a mouse! He’s shaking like a leaf. I think we rough him up a lil’ and his lips will be sealed tight. Ain’t that right, Ratatouille?”
They both look at him expectantly, and Nymph concentrates his gaze at the floor, willing his voice to come out evenly.
“I-I-I w-would prefer, um. Not. T-to be hurt. If p-possible.”
This earns him a short but nasty laugh from the Awoken, who throws her head back and runs a hand through her asymmetrical white hair.
“Vanguard’s desperate for Guardians if this is what they’re pulling these days.” she mutters.
Nova rises to eye-level of the Awoken hunter, “Listen here, hunter - you’re still a part of the Vanguard, however much you try to repress it. We've recorded you both conspiring and we know you have a vested interest in the mercenary known as the Spider.”
Nymphodorus is waving his hands at his ghost, “Nova, stop-“
She ignores her charge, the shards of her Traveler shell spinning faster in agitation.
“Now, what do you think Commander Zavala would make of this information? Maybe you should watch your tone with my guardian, or he’ll have to take you to the Commander himself!”
Nymph sags at the end of his ghost’s little speech. He should probably have a conversation with her soon - she has a bit too much faith in him. It’s gotten him killed more than once.
The Drifter doesn’t pretend to act chastised by these words. He can barely hold himself up as voracious laughter echoes through the dank chamber. His companion has a sour look on her face, like she just drank a carton of expired Vex milk.
“Brother, you better get your golf ball under control! Is she the guardian in the relationship or are you? Ha! How feisty! I gotta couple’a tricks if you ever get tired of her yappin’ though… just keep me in mind.”
“Um.. thanks but no thanks. I like her just the way she is.” Nymph’s voice echoes through the room. He steps back. He hadn’t meant to be so loud.
The Drifter eyes Nymphodorus suddenly. The young warlock tries not to make eye contact as the rogue Lightbearer stares him up and down. It feels like an eternity, agonizing, until he hears Drifter snort.
“Ahh, I get it. She puts this little bravado on because she’s trying to keep ya all to herself, huh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nymph mumbles.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nova demands.
The little Light whizzes back to her place at Nymphodorus’ shoulder.
“I think I see what you mean,” Venom purrs, the shift in tone causing Nymph to suppress a shudder. “There may be some Light in you after all.”
Her electric blue eyes seem to glow brighter in the dim fluorescent light. Despite himself, he catches her gaze, and feels a tickle in the back of his head, a faint whisper of something tugging at his Light.
The sharp snap of Venom’s heeled boots on the grates below startles him back into the moment. His hand instinctively goes towards his Lumina.
The action causes Drifter to straighten up from where he was leaning against the guardrail. “So you’re picking up what I’m putting down, sister?”
She glares at him, her hand coming to grip one of Nymphodorus’ shoulders. It was much too casual and much too possessive a gesture for someone Nymph had only just met. He starts to shuffle backward, but the grip is strong, and her pointed, jet black nails start to dig into his dark skin.
So, he was still being threatened after all.
Venom and Drifter engage in some sort of silent battle, Drifter eyeing the both of them with a fiendish glint in his eye, while Venom glares disdainfully back at him.
“Nova,” Nymph whispers as quietly as he dares, “What should I do?”
“Abort!” She hisses, “We’ll regroup and plan a counterattack with Jack and Nico! They’ll know what to do!”
Nymph closes his eyes and silently begs the Light to cloak him once more. As the familiar magenta air clouds around him, his form disappears, and he uses Venom’s focus on Drifter to thrust a volley of void magic from his hands. She’s blown backwards, but her reflexes allow her to avoid crumpling to the ground. She skids to a halt, using one hand to steady herself. Her head whips to scan the entrance for a glimmer of disturbance. Her eyes glow bright blue as she calls electric arc energy into her hands. It forms into a pointed trident and she throws it with pinpoint accuracy at Nymphodorus’ back, despite his invisibility.
He shrieks, feeling the energy course through his being. The opposing Light smothers his own, and his form becomes visible to all once more. He slumps to the ground, his robes askew, and watches the ceiling blur.
He feels like he’s going to throw up.
Drifter whistles, “Damn, you really don’t wait, sister. Like watching a cat toy with a mouse. Kinda makes ya feel for the mouse.”
Venom whips her head towards Drifter, her being still crackling with electrifying energy. Her chin-length hair is drawn up in all directions as the static takes effect.
“Do. Not. Tempt. Me.” She twirls her trident as a statement.
Drifter holds his hands up, attempting to look placating. “Lady, I’m about ready to pee myself. You don’t gotta worry about ole’ Drifter here. Tell ya what- Spider and I go waaaaaay back. I’ll pay him a visit and see if we can’t settle our… differences. That satisfy you?”
She looks at him for a burning moment, before her eyes flicker out, and she runs a periwinkle hand over her white hair to smooth it back into place. She scoffs at him and stomps out the door. Nymph snatches his hand out of the way of her boots and sits up. He watches her pass by in a daze. Just when he thinks he’s in the clear, she stops and turns to face him. The movement is quick, jolting- her hand catches his chin before he realizes. She pulls his face up and leans down close, turning his head so her lips are a hair breath away from his ear. He feels the ghost of her breath.
“Say anything to Zavala or Ikora, and that will have seemed like a love tap. I am not playing with you. And if your ghost ever attempts to talk to me again, I will shoot her.”
“Do you know what it feels to be Lightless?” She hisses at him, “It is a fate worse than a million deaths. Don’t cross me, little one.”
She pushes him back down and walks out into the concrete hallway. Nymphodorus waits until he can’t hear the snap of her boots before he allows himself to relax.
He startles when he feels another hand on his shoulder.
“Woah there, easy, Ratatouille.”
“What does that even mean,” he moans, rubbing his gray eyes with the heel of his hand. Maybe if he pushes hard enough, all of this will go away. His eyes peek open, half-lidded, to see Drifter, still smirking.
So much for that hope.
“Brother, you are one special guardian. All types of coward. I can respect it. In this world, being a coward is just another way of survival.”
Nova darts forward, her round little shell hovering protectively in front of Nymph’s face. She moves to speak, but Drifter pushes her out of the way, sending her spinning through open air. He raises himself slowly, then offers his hand to Nymphodorus.
There are faint warning bells going off in Nymph’s head, but the kiss of metal on his back is sapping what little body heat he had left, and if he sits curled up any longer his legs are going to take forever to recover. He’s surprised at the cool, dry grip of the Drifter’s hand. Every Lightbearer he knows runs hot, regardless of subclass. Drifter pulls him up easily, and keeps pulling until Nymphodorus stumbles forward.
“I know ya got some sorta misplaced loyalty to the vanguard,” he murmurs close, “Even though they can’t even trust ya to do a simple scouting mission.”
Nymph pulls back, brows knitted together, “What are you talking about?” Nova flies back to him, but he gently scoops her out of the air before she can interrupt.
Drifter makes a show of fussing, taking a huge breath just to sigh dramatically.
“Come on, brother. You don’t really think you’re the only one who’s visited me in the past week, do you?”
Nymph blinks. Frowns. Looks back to Drifter with narrowed eyes.
Drifter isn’t even looking back at him. He’s taken a few steps back to lean against the metal guardrail again and is flipping a jade pendant through the air. His eyes slide towards Nymphodorus for a moment. He starts to whistle.
Nymphodorus stands there, his mind spiraling.
They didn’t even think he could do a scouting mission in the tower- they didn’t trust him enough? Zavala has always been disappointed- Ikora surely wishes he wasn’t her charge- all the other new guardians have excelled at something but he just mucks up anything he attempts- why was he Risen why was he Risen why-
“Hey,” Drifter calls, “I can see your mind is goin' a million miles an hour. Tell ya what- I’ll give ya the same opportunity I gave the others, ‘cuz I’m a real generous guy like that. Wanna prove somethin’ to that little vanguard of yours? Call it extended reconnaissance, if you will. I’m settin up a little something, like that loud oaf’s Crucible, but waaaayyyy better. Callin’ it Gambit. I could use you, if ya got the time.”
Drifter flips the jade pendant through his fingers. Nymphodorus watches it disappear. Thinks about what Jack and Nicosia would say. Thinks about how quiet Nova is being. Knows she feels just as slighted as he does. Thinks about the warning bells still going off in the back of his mind. And yet, the Light inside him grows warm. Feels urging.
He focuses on that feeling as he makes eye contact with Drifter.
“Okay,” he breathes. “I’m in.”