Grey.
The walls of the Tower were all a very monotonous, dull grey. The particular wall I was staring at had a class symbol on it, albeit not attuning to my own. The symbols were mentally etched into every class, so having them painted on the walls of our home reminded us of the pride we carry. But as of late, I can’t say there has been much self-pride for me to bathe in. Being the Tower’s recon scout meant that I was assigned all the mundane chores while my other fellow Guardians got to administer the missions they received. Chores like fixing broken computers and maintaining the SATcoms.
Ever since Oryx’s defeat, which was led by my fireteam a few months ago, Commander Zavala put me out of commission for eight months since he believes I need some time to decompress and be home. Cayde-6 and Ikora Rey disagreed with him, but there wasn’t much they could do for me. So now I’m stuck here, at the Tower, overseeing the recon station to provide other guardians with coordinates and other intel their Ghosts can’t scrounge.
I let myself fantasize, picturing Cdr. Zavala siding with the other two Vanguards to let me back on the field where I can do my part to ward the Darkness with my Light. My fireteam members often came by my post to see how I was doing. They’d tell me stories about some mission they were on, who got hurt, what they managed to scavenge. …show more content…
Towering about six and a half feet tall, he was a force of nature, and only a cocksure idiot would get on his bad side—given he has a tendency to oddly intense and direct. As strange as it may sound, he was a gorgeous Titan with streaks of white in his black hair, along with his deep voice that would surely put anyone at ease. He was standing in the doorway to my post, and I practically choked up. Ever since I met him, I’ve sort of developed a strong liking toward him, albeit I doubt the feelings were
The walls of the Tower were all a very monotonous, dull grey. The particular wall I was staring at had a class symbol on it, albeit not attuning to my own. The symbols were mentally etched into every class, so having them painted on the walls of our home reminded us of the pride we carry. But as of late, I can’t say there has been much self-pride for me to bathe in. Being the Tower’s recon scout meant that I was assigned all the mundane chores while my other fellow Guardians got to administer the missions they received. Chores like fixing broken computers and maintaining the SATcoms.
Ever since Oryx’s defeat, which was led by my fireteam a few months ago, Commander Zavala put me out of commission for eight months since he believes I need some time to decompress and be home. Cayde-6 and Ikora Rey disagreed with him, but there wasn’t much they could do for me. So now I’m stuck here, at the Tower, overseeing the recon station to provide other guardians with coordinates and other intel their Ghosts can’t scrounge.
I let myself fantasize, picturing Cdr. Zavala siding with the other two Vanguards to let me back on the field where I can do my part to ward the Darkness with my Light. My fireteam members often came by my post to see how I was doing. They’d tell me stories about some mission they were on, who got hurt, what they managed to scavenge. …show more content…
Towering about six and a half feet tall, he was a force of nature, and only a cocksure idiot would get on his bad side—given he has a tendency to oddly intense and direct. As strange as it may sound, he was a gorgeous Titan with streaks of white in his black hair, along with his deep voice that would surely put anyone at ease. He was standing in the doorway to my post, and I practically choked up. Ever since I met him, I’ve sort of developed a strong liking toward him, albeit I doubt the feelings were