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“Don’t you think it’s about time you gave her a new coat of paint?”
Charlie had very kindly refrained from using the terms old rust-bucket or piece of lèsè, despite the fact that the ship’s previous owner had used them often and with audible affection. But although it had been seven years since the Prison of Elders, what had happened in the Pale Heart was far more recent, scarcely a year gone, and the little aqua-colored Ghost knew his Guardian well enough to know when a reopened wound was still tender.
At his question, Estelle had stopped in her tracks, seeming to brace herself before turning back to face her ship. The Queen of Hearts wasn’t necessarily the prettiest craft out there, though her lines were mostly clean and fairly fluid, if not quite sleek. Arcadian ships were a relic of the Golden Age, and it showed in all sorts of little ways, but they were still widely-used, and widely-loved, not least of all for their resilience and reliability. Hell, both Zavala and Ikora flew them as their own personal jumpships, and if that wasn’t a ringing endorsement, nothing was.
The Queen of Hearts had belonged to a member of the Vanguard too, years ago. But it was Estelle’s now, and had been for a long while...and as the red-headed Titan walked around her ship, lovingly dragging a hand along her sides here and there, she had to admit that Charlie was right. The ship itself was in good repair--she’d always made certain of that, out of practicality and necessity as much as sentimentality--but the once-bright paint gracing her hull had grown faded and dim, chipped and scuffed in places from numerous dives through asteroid belts and debris fields and uncounted burns through atmo. No matter how she looked at it, the old girl definitely deserved some sprucing up.
...Only, Estelle didn’t want to.
A faint smile came to the Titan’s face as she let the memories flood over her, bittersweet and beloved. Cayde talking a mile a minute about how his ship needed a new coat of paint, subtly (and then not-so-subtly) attempting to rope Estelle herself into agreeing to do it for him, or failing that, at least help him with the project. Hearing him put it off again and again when Vanguard business took center stage, as it so often did. Watching him try to trick New Lights into repainting the ship for him instead--which, Sundance had smugly divulged, he had been failing to do for well over two decades. Finding him in the hanger one Saturday night, half a dozen drop cloths and a dozen buckets of open paint and at least twice that many paintbrushes scattered around the area haphazardly, the sleeves of his mechanic’s coveralls rolled up past his elbows in a way that made her stare at the corded metal muscle of his forearms pretty shamelessly. Getting caught staring, and seeing the heated glint it brought to those glowing blue eyes, the way he got that pleased, knowing grin that was almost too big for his mouth. Ditching her usual armor and pulling on a pair of Amanda’s spare coveralls, jumping into the fray (such as it was) to help the Hunter Vanguard repaint his ship. Getting covered in that paint, accidental splatters and not-so-accidental splashes mingling alike on the living canvas her body had become as the hours passed. Getting covered in kisses afterwards, when they’d finished the job and gone back to Cayde’s place to clean up. How proud Cayde had looked over that fresh new coat of paint, over how sharp his ship looked now. How he’d joked for weeks about repainting Zavala’s or Ikora’s next--“Or hey, maybe both, since we make such a good team. Not to mention how it really seemed to light a fire of inspiration in ya afterwards, Titan... After all, what’s better than cleanin’ up together, right after makin’ a mess together? Other than makin’ that mess in the first place, of course.”
For Estelle, those memories were still bright and vivid...but unlike those memories, the paint job on the Queen of Hearts was no longer fresh and striking. It was scratched and messy, faded and worn, and even seen through eyes tinted with affection...
“...You’re right, Charlie. She does look pretty bad,” the Titan had to admit, albeit with a wistful sort of reluctance. Letting her hand fall away from one of the engine casings, Estelle angled a lopsided smile over at her Ghost. “Know of any fresh New Lights we can try to wrangle into doing the job for us?”
“As a matter of fact,” Charlie stated, an obvious grin in his tone, “I thought you might say something like that.” The little Ghost gave a whirling pivot in place, and judging by the almost booming increase in his volume, he must’ve tapped into her ship’s external speakers as he called out, “All right, you can all come on in now!”
“About freakin’ time, these goddamn paint cans are HEAVY!”
“You know you didn’t have to stand there and hold them the whole time, Jesse.”
“Don’t use your bullshit Warlock LOGIC on me, Marek!”
“...But...you’re a Warlock too, though?”
“You stay outta this, SIGRID! You keep yo’ goddamn Hunter ASS outta our Warlock business!”
“Cavalry’s here,” Al said with a wry smile and a good-natured roll of his eyes as the rest of the clan devolved into playful squabbling as they all brought in various painting supplies, which he ignored in favor of setting down a drop cloth and paint can of his own close beside Estelle’s feet. “Such as we are. Charlie told us this would be a good clan project--if you decided that you wanted it done.” The Awoken Warlock paused a telling moment, making an obvious show of studying Estelle’s face. “You sure about this, chief?”
“You want us gone, we can pack up and leave in a heartbeat,” Marek chimed in as he came to stand beside the other Warlock, a couple drop cloths draped over his shoulder.
Estelle swallowed hard, fighting the sudden burning sensation at the backs of her eyes--but she shook her head, smiling as she stepped forward to pull both Warlocks in for a team-huddle-like hug. “Nah, I want you here. All of you--even Jesse.”
“I fuckin’ HEARD THAT!”
“Heh. You were meant to.”
“WHAT did I say about keepin’ yo Hunter ASSES outta my business, Saipher?!”
With a lot of laughter (and of course plenty more fake-growling from Jesse), the clan got to work, spreading drop cloths and stirring cans of paint, all of them deferring to Estelle’s expertise regarding what color to use where. With everyone working together, it only took a few hours--half the night rather than the majority of it--and they spent the whole time bantering and swapping stories and listening to whatever music Charlie was pumping out through the Queen’s speakers. Towards the end of things, Sigrid and Saipher brought out the large spade-shape stencil they’d found, something Cayde had apparently rigged up the last time he’d painted the Queen of Hearts, which the red-headed Titan herself painted on as the two final, finishing touches.
As they all stepped back to admire their work, Estelle had to admit that the old girl looked worlds better like this--that gleaming-fresh paint job was a sight that surely would’ve made Cayde puff out his chest with pride. Turning away from the ship, she found her friends all quietly watching for her reaction, a mix of hopefulness, excitement, and anxiety visible in varying degrees on every face...so she put them all at ease with a big grin.
“...Thanks, guys. She looks great--good as new. Better, even.”
Answering grins broke out in response to her words, and a friendly hand patted her on her Titan-broad shoulder; another came to rest on her other shoulder, protective and respectful--and then she was snickering as she gathered everyone up, pulling them all in for a stumbling, giggling, goofy group hug. Only when Charlie started playing a well-known it’s time to go sort of song over the jumpship’s speakers a few minutes later did the hug-huddle finally break up, everyone smiling and smeared with and smelling of paint as they all headed out together for a well-deserved drink.