How long, baby, have I been away?
Oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days
There ain't language for the things I've seen, yeah
And the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams
Meet Me in the Woods – Lord Huron
-
May 10, 29-fucking-50, 06:14, the Last City
The Hunter dorms were, at all times, either deathly silent or louder than a Fallen riot. There was absolutely no in-between. To Azra's chagrin, six in the morning was one of the loud times. The lines for the showers were as long as they ever were decades ago. Azra only vaguely recognized a few people. The crowd was a mix of Hunters in from the field in scorched and dusty clothing and more routine Tower visitors in their sleepwear.
None were nearly so filthy or battered as Azra. The Hunters looked at her dirt-encrusted state and the weariness she wore down to her bones and collectively waved her to the front of the line. Hunters look after each other, Andal had said. Nobody else will.
At least with all the dirt, nobody assumed her to be a Kinderguardian again. Or yet?
-
"My name is ꙰. You look like you are new. I am new as well."
The Warlock sat and stuck out her hand. Azra stared at it for a moment, before remembering oh yeah, handshakes. She took it. The Warlock's grip was strong.
"I'm not new." Azra's voice cracked a little. Her lips were dry. She coughed and reached for her canteen.
-
She stumbled and bit off a hiss. Someone grabbed her elbow to steady her, which only makes it worse-
Breathe. She breathed, and thanked the person in monotone, and headed for the open stall. The ground seemed to pitch beneath her feet. She had only just closed the curtain when her nausea became too much to bear.
At least there was no food in it this time.
Azra turned on the tap and stood under the stream, gear and all. The water came out of the showerhead clear but went down the drain a brownish-gray. Azra took the soap and started scrubbing.
Eventually, though, she was forced to admit defeat and let Spark take the muddy clothes. There was no way those were getting dirt-free without some serious TLC. The water remained a steady lukewarm, and the lack of icy shock kept her feeling off-balance. Usually the boilers gave up quick and doused them all in meltwater runoff from the glaciers. (The marvels of modern technology: bearable showers?)
She worked vigorously, but it was still another half an hour until she was anything approaching 'clean'. The room had only gotten louder. Complaints, taunts, and jokes flew thick and fast as bored Hunters crowded the space. Azra knew better than to try to hold on to the words.
She shut off the water and Spark produced a towel for her (a Tower luxury- who had space for special drying cloths in the wilds?). Azra fumbled in her haste to get dry and clothed and out of this loud insanity.
Cleared from grime, she could see her hands and arms (and knees, and shins) were scarred from wounds Spark could not heal properly. Scars didn't stick on Guardians unless they were important (Azra's fingers found the raised ridge on her neck automatically, a little relieved to feel It still there). She knew some people who'd taken sword cuts at Mare Ibrium and had walked away with permanent reminders. She wondered if these would stay after a rez.
"Someone's taking their sweet time in stall fourteen!" a woman shouted.
"I'm moving!" Azra answered.
-
YOU ARE READING
You've Got Time ( a Destiny Story)
Fanfic"No one can open the Vault alone. I opened the Vault. There was no one with me but I was not alone." A team of six entered the Vault of Glass. Kabr fought and died. Praedyth was captured. Pahanin ran. Two were cut away, and one hid. This story story...
