Work Text:
Moonstruck
[Moon/Lunar Drop Zone]
Eris stood over the Lectern of Enchantment, staring into its effervescent contents, as her hands gripped the edge of the makeshift table. The basin simmered, steady streams of bubbles breaching the surface in muffled bursts, just like the sense of annoyance beginning to erupt inside her chest. In the periphery of her vision, the Huntress caught glimpses of the crystal-shaped Cryptoglyph rotating, its glowing runes coming and going. Listening carefully to the crackles of a live communication channel in her ear canal, Eris heard the voice of someone she hardly had expected to contact her. Since their departure from Europa, radio silence had become their form of dialogue—constant and predictable.
Why now?!
“Merry, friggin’ Dawning, Moondust! How ya’ been?”
The Huntress sighed, eyes rolling, “What do you want, Drifter?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that! Just checkin’ in since you don’t call or write,” he chuckled caustically. “It would hurt my feelings if I had any to begin with.”
Eris shook her head, “Yes, if you had any.”
The rogue laughed, “So, the reason I called—”
“If this is a social call, then I shall promptly depart. Prattle on with someone who would be equally willing to entertain your tedious drivel like Amanda or the Saint. I am hanging up,” she said, about to cut the line.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Drifter yelled, his voice serious and pleading.
Eris paused.
This was unlike him.
“I—uh—I’ve got a pet project I’m working on. Thought you might be—ya know—interested,” he mentioned sheepishly, skirting the subject. Eris’ brow arched skeptically as she remained unpersuaded by his seemingly beguiling words and matching tonality. “Seeing as you’re the resident expert on all things Hive, you could give me some pointers. Come on Moondust, think this through. How often do I come asking for—help? Hmm?”
“What are you toying with now?” She growled. “I do not have time to babysit—ˮ The channel immediately seized, alternating between arcing pitches, cracks, and roars. Just as the noise whined out, the feed buzzed with white-static in zero seconds flat. The last thing she heard was Drifter utter a curse before silence fueled the void between them. “Drifter?”
No reply.
Eris bit her lip, worrying thoughtfully. “Drifter?!” She chanced once more. What did it matter to her if he was fooling around with Hive magics? Why should she care?
Perhaps, Ikora would care.
Yes.
Ikora cares.
She always cares.
Bowing her head in defeat, the Huntress pushed away from the Lectern and extracted the Ahamkara bone fragment from the folds of her robes. Fragile thoughts morphed into facetious reasoning as Eris unintentionally glared at the flaming orb floating mere inches above her palm. A putrescent lime-green glow trailed up her brown gauntlet, casting long shadows where light did not reach. Holding it out, she willed open a portal which split the very fabric of reality.
Trudging forward, Eris plunged through to the other side, emerging with a reactionary shiver. The place between doorways was always cold, its bone chill akin to Europan meteorological conditions—if not worse. Shaking off the claws of the netherworld, the Huntress looked around the long stretch of lonely corridor. The overhead lights were switched off, an orange glow emanating from beneath grated gangplanks. Light and dark took to their timeless dance like warring rivals; boundaries shifting as Eris’ draconic prize flickered like a beacon of glowing disruption.
True to her Hunter’s ambitions, the jaded doomsayer stalked down the corridor with the grace of a phantom. Senses on high-alert, Eris harnessed the wintry power of Stasis to her fingertips, not willing to take any chances. Turn-after-turn, her heart fluttered as fear flirted with every passing thought. Yet, there were no hordes of Thrall to ambush her. No Acolytes to revel in the glory of an excellently schemed ambush. Not even a menacing Knight to barrel down the walkways, their tread heavy-laden with malicious intent. The more she traversed The Derelict’s metal belly, the more and more flummoxed she became.
Was this all a trick?
A practical joke?
Or, perhaps, crafty manipulation?
If the latter, then shame on her for not anticipating the mind-games Drifter so often employed for his personal gain. Eris’ face scrunched with immediate disapproval, envisioning herself doling out a harsh reprimand to school the vagabond into a modicum of respect. Not that it would be of much good for a lawless person filled with such wanderlust. In the midst of her internal war of frustrations, Eris came to a halt, abruptly surfacing from her secluded headspace as a tempting aroma wove itself through the air.
Something sweet, salty, and fried.
What was it?
Eris knew not.
It was—new.
Following her nose, the Huntress took several more cautious turns until she was led into a chilled cargo hold full of snowy mounds and unusual flora. Eris promptly evaluated this new organic growth within the space, its bleak and eerie themes reinforced by blue-green lowlights. This alien horticulture, a blooming garden ripe with bulbous foliage donning purple fronds, thrived in a world all its own. Dark beauty was the best way to phrase what came to mind—lovely yet deadly.
Daring not to touch so much as a leaf, she observed how their limbs appeared to sway. Vine-like stems stretched and unfurled, some towered over her while others swept over the ground, reminding her of coiling snakes. The Drifter, not one for orderliness, must have left The Derelict to its own devices. Many wild things grew here of their own accord, no doubt furthering the presaging point of the ship and its Captain.
Something in the distance sizzled and popped, garnering Eris’ renewed attention. Forthwith, she strode through the garden toward an open shipping container with light pouring out. Along the last stretch of walkway were snow-powdered rows of mulched ground, uncharacteristically manicured and orderly on either side. It did not seem to match the adjacent menacing vegetation, so at least there was something pleasant and homely within the enigma that is The Derelict.
Sharp, leafy green bushels carried a very large yellow—pine cone?—at its center, equally pokey in appearance. The skin seemed firm with hexagonal scales covering it entirely save for the spiked leaves shooting out the top. Unable to help herself, Eris became distracted once more by this new peculiarity. What are these things? Curiosity getting the better of her, Eris reached out to touch the ‘yellow-pine-cone-thing’ wanting to know more and understand the texture.
Mere inches from brushing the tips of her fingers against the plant, a scarred hand clamped firmly around her own. Startled, she yanked away and threw a quick jab. Before her fist could connect with a bristly jaw, they redirected the momentum of that self-same punch, turning her effortlessly like a spinning top. The skirts of her robes flapped wildly, chasing her roundabout until she could be twirled no further. In the moment of Eris’ pure astonishment, muscled arms traumatized from countless injuries, wrapped around her in a warm embrace. Knowing full well who dared to stand so close—risking life and maiming—to hold her, Eris clenched her eyes shut. The Drifter’s usual musk of worn leather preceded his presence, carrying with it uncharacteristic scents of fried oil and citrus.
Suddenly a roiling blush burst beneath Eris’ cheeks, frightening her with how easy the notion came. She should have been angry and yet, she could not muster anything more than bewilderment. How helpless she was to her own stirring emotions. When was the last time anyone other than Ikora had held her—or wanted to for that matter—free from judgmental revulsion? As reluctant as she was to admit it, Eris craved the affectionate contact. It was a bold reminder that she truly mattered. That she was not so morbidly grotesque or broken beyond repair.
Yet, while this modicum of comfort was welcome, it also stung like salt to an open wound. The pain burned so bad it admonished her, whispering about the failure of a loveless misfit. Quietly, she fought back the tears, blinking them away in secret. Not one to let the world know her weakness, Eris began to wiggle away from him with a feigned speech of annoyance trapped in her throat. They were bitter words she wished to lash out with, but they just would not come.
The vagabond lingered seconds more until he pulled away, patting at her shoulders as he stepped back. Though there was a physical distance between them, his presence remained with her still. Eris could tell their shared moment was every bit as—strange—to him as it was to her. Seeing as nothing was spoken, she assumed it had surprised him as well.
This—this was unplanned.
What was more worrisome: spontaneity or premeditation?
She could not answer.
The Huntress involuntarily shivered as she continued to experience his touch parading upon her skin. Why did she feel so deprived and bankrupt? Suddenly stamping down on this thought, Eris crossed her arms and pursed her lips. The contact was a confusing blend of allure and taboo, a byproduct of their self-constructed modus operandi. Both individuals sported solitary lives, going to and fro as they pleased. Unnecessary closeness would jeopardize their goals and aspirations if they succumbed to a silly thing called “love” and its multitudinous comorbidities.
Infatuation.
Irrationality.
Clinginess.
And so much more.
“I—uh—I wouldn’t touch those plants if I were you,” he warned lightly. He seemed to brush past the elephant in the room, acting as if nothing ever happened. “They aren’t perfect yet, still come with undesirable quirks.”
“What do you mean by ‘quirks?” Eris asked, turning to meet his gaze.
Immediately, she regretted her decision as she glimpsed a sense of unspoken longing in his pale blue eyes. How was she to proceed now? While Eris contemplated her next moves, she began to notice the idiosyncrasies that made the wanderer before her who he was. The scars and pockmarks cross his face, imperfections to some, were merits of character to her. His short black hair, normally tied back by a greasy durag, fell forward in disheveled disarray. The robes with leather straps he normally donned, exchanged for a raggedy apron folded in half around his waist. Somehow it suited him, disguising him with a docile appearance—a terrible misnomer to a mistaken soul. Coming to the end of her observation, Eris glimpsed the jade pendant—twisted, twin snakes—hanging just above the neckline of his black undershirt.
The Drifter scratched the back of his neck as he said, “I had to speed up a year’s long growth process into a third of that time and my ship ain’t exactly the place for naturally exotic agriculture. So, I took a few artistic liberties with the environment...”
“A year?!” she almost screeched.
“Well…I ain’t no green-thumb or nothin’, but after chattin’ it up with Ikora and Eva Levante for some botany know-how, I came up with an idea,” he explained. “Had to produce a hardier plant I could reap quickly for my use.”
“So, you infused them with Hive Magics?!” Eris’ earlier annoyance came back to her like the crack of a whip.
“No,” he chuckled. “Think a little higher than that.”
“They’re Ascendant Pine Cones?!?!”
Drifter full-belly laughed, the sound genuine and deep. “Pine-apples—Ascendant Pineapples!” Chuckling, he continued, “A little birdy told me you were trying to grow some a while back. Unsuccessfully, might I add. Figured I’d take a stab at it, since—you know—you found it important and all.”
“How dare you have the audacity to spy on me, Rat!” She accused. “For how long?”
“Calm down, Moondust! Before you ignite the plants with your magic hand thing.” At that, he wiggled all his fingers at her like a kid mimicking dancing flames. “I worked hard on them because I thought that you—oh—never mind. Just go home. I knew this wasn’t a good idea.” The Drifter’s sudden backtrack punched Eris in the gut, acidic guilt eating at her belly. He had done all this for her? In time for the Dawning Season no less. “Can’t believe you’d accuse me of somethin’ all devious and disgusting like. I ain’t no creep!”
The Huntress fought the notion to roll her eyes at him, knowing full well the kind of sneak he was. However, this was short lived as she noticed him looking quite dour and dare she admit it—upset. With a long sigh of regret, Eris stepped toward him and with a tentative waggle of fingers placed her hand on his shoulder. The Drifter did not shy away, just stared at her disappointedly.
“Perhaps, my words were—a little—harsh. I am…sorry,” she murmured.
“Just to set the record straight,” he deadpanned, “one of my regulars told me about your eager search for pineapples. Said you even sent her to go pilfer the Arcology for it.”
“Ah,” she nodded knowingly. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“You’re one of the few people I have an almost healthy level of respect for. I ain’t about to burn this bridge,” he muttered. “Not if I don’t have to.”
“Regarding your earlier call then, what were you—”
“Ah, that! Well, it wasn’t exactly for a field trip to the Pineapple Farm.” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I was callin’—man this is embarrassing—I was callin’ because I wanted to see if you’d like to have dinner. Just the two of us. However, before I could properly ask, my wok caught on fire.”
He owns a wok?
“Dinner?” She queried.
What a strange notion coming from The Drifter.
“You know—dinner. That thing where two people have a sit down meal at a table and just talk. Maybe have a few drinks and a good time,” he explained sarcastically.
“Dinner?” Eris asked again, clearly taken aback. The concept of having a meal with someone was completely unusual to her. Could she do that? Maybe the question is more properly phrased as: does she do that?!?! The Huntress’ mouth opened and closed several times unsure of what to say. Finally, she croaked, “With me?”
“Don’t leave me hangin’, Moondust,” Drifter complained. “This is already embarrassing enough—”
“I do not fully comprehend the situation, what do Ascendant Pine-apples and dinner have in common?” She wondered.
“Ah, dang it, Moondust! Do I have to spell it out for you? I grew the Pineapples so I could put them in the dinner I planned out months ago,” he griped, gesticulating his point with building frustration. “So, are you staying for dinner or not?”
“Yes!” She blurted. “Yes, I shall stay for dinner.”
“Good!” Drifter growled, highly flustered. Turning on the heal of his boot, he stalked off into his humble abode, grumbling to himself. Eris stood completely still as a statue, uncertain of how she got herself into this mess. Before she could ponder further, the vagabond yelled, “Don’t just stand out there like a lethargic Cabal on night watch. Get a move on. Pop a squat.”
Taking her cue, Eris strode into Drifter’s private quarters which were jam-packed with all kinds of armaments and odd trinkets. All along the left wall were crates, various decorations, and two foldup-tables-turned-kitchenette. The L-shaped tables held a steaming wok idling atop a heating element and two plates waiting to serve. To the right of this, parted by a meager walkway with red carpet, was a single cot and a blue-gold sleeping bag draped over the side. Drifter pulled a nearby rolling chair from his right and lightly pushed it toward Eris before taking his seat on the bed. While the Huntress stopped the rollaway seat with the tip of her boot, the rogue began dishing out the food in great heaps.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he remarked. His tone was soft, a wavering medium between happy and nervous. “I know I am.”
“What is it?” Eris asked, coming to the table.
“Age-old recipe—fried rice,” Drifter answered.
“With Ascendant Pineapples?” she asked, venturing a light chuckle.
“Ding, ding, ding!” he chimed. “We have ourselves a winner.”
“I did not realize you had an aptitude for the culinary arts. Perhaps, it will fare more pleasantly than my own ineptitude,” Eris commented.
The Drifter stopped scooping out the food, the ladle hovering over the wok uncertainly. “Was—was that a compliment? Huh! Color me impressed, Moondust. You’re full of surprises today.” Chuckling, he said, “You’ll find there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
“Indeed,” she nodded. “As you prefer it.”
“Same could be said about you, Miss dark, brooding, and mysterious,” he teased.
Eris arched her brow, “Dark, brooding, and mysterious? Hardly.”
“Beg to differ, Moondust!” As he said this, Drifter rested the ladle on the countertop and took up a set of chopsticks. “The Tower is always abuzz when you’re around, Sweetheart. It’s a real treat, hearing people flappin’ their traps. They tend to let things slip from time-to-time. Learn juicy tidbits that way. Comes in handy.”
“Glad my belittlement is of great service to you,” she mumbled. Picking up a set of chopsticks, Eris began picking at the food. Turning over grains of rice, she inspected the vegetables, cashews, and meat. She did this until she found several glittering slices of fruit with gradient colors of white, blue, and black. “Must be the Ascendant Pine-apples,” she thought to herself. “If I still had feelings, that truth of yours would sear.”
“Ain’t nothin’ like that, Moondust!” Drifter answered between bites. “I ain’t about to let some knuckle heads razz ya’ for no good reason, especially if I can profit off them as well. It’s a win-win situation.”
“What did you say was wrong with those Pine-apples, outside?” She asked, distractedly. “I was unable get them to properly grow on Io.”
“T-ey exp-ode,” he mumbled. Seconds away from putting a slice of stir fried Ascendant Pineapple in her mouth, Eris froze, gawking at the fruit. Suddenly, it was a suspicious incendiary device, and she felt the stress of possible death come upon her. Forthwith, Drifter busted out laughing, seeing her startled expression. Slamming a hand down on the table several times, he laughed until he almost choked. Quickly clearing his throat, he chuckled, “I’m just kidding—sort of.”
“Forgive me for not feeling safe,” she bit sarcastically.
“Ah, lighten up, Moondust! I called you out here for dinner, not to kill ya’. If I had, you would know,” he cheeked.
Eris rolled her eyes, “You boldly assume I would not be apprised already.”
“Moondust, you’re the only one who can keep up with me. So, no, I hadn’t assumed,” he answered seriously. Before much else could be said, he shoveled several bites of fried rice into his mouth as his cheeks flushed a deeper-than-usual color.
Eris was stunned.
Unable to respond, she took her first bite, following the Drifter’s nervous cue. Then another. And another. The rice was heavily seasoned with garlic and soy, thickly buttered, and finely complimented by diced green onion. The meat of choice was chicken, grilled and sweetened with a dark sauce. Corn, carrots, and pineapples diced and paired well with softened cashews. In short, it was incredibly delicious!
They spent their time quietly, soaking up the ambiance while they ate their meals. The sound of clinking chopsticks was the only form of idle chatter. Before Eris knew it, there were only a handful of grains left on her plate, everything snarfed up in ravenous hunger and terrible awkwardness.
Is this how couples eat?
Immediately, Eris jumped to her feet, nearly knocking the table over. “I must depart! This has been…lovely.”
Springing into action, the Rogue swiftly righted the table, preventing the wok from completely toppling off the counter. “What gives? I thought we were havin’ a good time? Even had dessert set aside.”
“All these pleasantries—it is starting to addle my mind.” Eris clutched her head, not wanting to read into things that were not there. Not for her at least. “I apologize about the table.”
“You’re not used to all this—I get it,” he acknowledged. “Times are tough. Can’t remember the last time I had a meal with someone who wasn’t gunnin’ to kill me.” The Huntress hugged herself, feeling all-too-exposed by the Drifter’s keen observation. “Trust me, this is new to me too. One meal together ain’t a bad thing, is it? Just give me a chance, Moondust!”
“What do you mean? Chance for what, pray tell?” Eris asked, turning around to meet his gaze. Startled by his closeness, she took a step back only for him to take a step forward. The Huntress watched as his pale blue eyes searched her, eventually falling to her lips before flicking away altogether. That terrible flush from earlier sprang to her cheeks, blossoming hotter and hotter as the seconds ticked by.
Romanticism was a foreign concept to Eris, always left on the periphery never to be fully explored. Since becoming a new Light, Eris had quickly concluded that she was considered an “undesirable”. Unable to recall a single compliment or otherwise, it was simple deduction—these things simply were not meant to be. Even beyond this fact, having hidden most of her face for years since her escape from the Moon, how could she be any semblance of appealing? Perhaps, this was the “dark, brooding, and mysterious” idea the Drifter had conveyed earlier? She was not trying to be anything other than herself. There were plenty of other things to be concerned about than…this.
Right?
The current situation was completely pushing her comfort zones, especially with The Drifter. Of all the things she could expect from him, this bold advance of his was almost too much to accept. Perhaps this was intended to be some form of sick joke?! Any minute now, he might bust out laughing and ask if she was deranged. That line of logic swiftly caused doubt to creep in, making her feel more upset than she had previously realized. What was she to do?
“Moondust, my dear,” he began, “even with your unique ability to see the world differently…you overlook quite a lot.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she bit.
“This is where we differ,” Drifter chuckled. “You like to put things in little boxes. Makes you feel safe. I ain’t a fan of boxes. I want a chance. Take me outta that square box. See that there’s more to ol’ Drifter than just dashing looks. Really get to know me.”
“Why should I?” She asked, genuinely considering his argument. “Of what benefit would this be to me? What should stop you from lashing out and hurting me? You, most of all, are not the entangling kind. What is so different now that you should stray from your own path?”
Drifter scratched his scalp, a determined expression set in place as he collected himself. “You're not making this easy, you know that?”
“Hardly,” she said with a self-sabotaging smirk.
“Alright, alright. I’m lousy at makin’ promises, but I’m great at makin’ deals.” He grinned, cheeks reddening slightly, “How ‘bout we strike a bargain since you’re unsure and all.” Eris’ brow arched in mild wariness. “I’ll cook ya’ dinner for the next month. Call it a Dawning present from yours truly. In exchange, you’ll agree to date me exclusively, however private you’d prefer it. This way you get to know me at your leisure, and I get the benefit of spendin’ time with you.” The grin on her lips quickly faded, exchanged for an introspective assessment.
She could hardly believe her ears.
The Drifter was serious.
ABOUT HER.
Was she serious about him?
Maybe…she was.
“Will there be…more…Ascendant Pine-apples?” Eris asked sheepishly.
He laughed, shaking his head, “If that’s your version of a ‘yes’, then you can bet your bottom dollar there will be more.”
Eris nodded, tentatively. “Pursuant to striking a bargain, one makes a payment for such a service. What must be waged to solidify this deal?”
The moment she spoke those words, Drifter grinned at her like a fox with a successful catch. Stepping forward, he said, “Oh, nothin’ much. The best kinds of deals are sealed with a kiss; makes it more personal.”
Taken aback, she practically screeched, “How often do you make these kinds of deals?”
His eyes grew distant, a small smile on his lips. “I haven’t. Not for a very, very long time, Moondust.” As quick as the expression came, it soon fell away as the rogue seemed to resurface back into reality. “I won’t do anything indecent-like or take what you’re not willin’ to offer. That I can assure you.” Searching her over, he reached out but promptly hesitated. “However, if you’re not serious, then make it clear to me. I’ll leave ya alone after that, if that’s what you want. Then we can go about livin’ as if none of this ever happened. Buried hatchets and all that nonsense.”
There were no words left for Eris to speak, only one point to prove. Yet, the fear of rejection came strong like the flash of lightening. While she thought on these things, Drifter placed a gentle hand on her cheek. Eris just about jumped through the ceiling at the warmth of his caress. Though she had visibly stiffened, the anxiety melted away seeing as he had not shied from her. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the display of affection, working to understand and absorb it.
As shocking as the first caress was, so was the second as Drifter moved to cup her face into his calloused hands. Yet, once again, he allowed her time to adjust. Soon thereafter, his hands worked to scoop back the veil and hood which hid her visage. Suddenly, Eris clammed up, and quickly grabbed his hands. Squeezing them, she closed her eyes, afraid to look upon him.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s just us here.”
“But I am…unsightly,” she mumbled.
“That, Sweetheart, is a certain point-of-view. It definitely ain’t mine,” Drifter encouraged.
Venturing a curious glance, Eris looked up and found the rogue staring at her longingly. It echoed the same vein of when he appeared to be admiring her lips. With a small nod, the Huntress let go and allowed him to sweep her disguise away. Long, black tresses spilled out and down past her shoulder in disarray. She could feel the follicles tickling her cheeks as the Drifter ran a hand through them with the utmost care. Sighing with content, Eris indulged the unexpected-but-welcome devotion.
“I’ve always wanted to know what your hair looked like,” he chuckled. “It suits you.” Eris smiled small. “Can I…?”
Keeping her eyes closed, she nodded.
Eris paid attention to how The Drifter closed the gap between them, tenderly wrapping his arms around her. His hold was loose but firm while he rested his open hands across the middle of her back. Eris felt the rise of anticipation lift her stomach as if in freefall. His breath was uneven just like her own, the nervousness causing the moment to stall.
This was it.
Just as Eris peeked a glance, curious about how this moment would unfold, she watched as Drifter leaned in. His lips, a touch softer than expected, ghosted over her own. Electric fire ran through Eris, weaving through her system like a shot of adrenaline. The musk of worn-leather transformed her mind to putty as she closed her eyes and all but held her breath. As he crushed his lips to her own, Drifter pulled her in, passion filling his meaningful ministrations. Unsure of what was up or down, the excitement rendered Eris lightheaded as she fell into him.
Amused, the Drifter chuckled mischievously and squeezed her tight. Innocently unaware of his playful schemes, the Huntress gasped, flushing immediately. It was terribly embarrassing, falling for his coy, little traps. Eris felt wholly unequipped and unprepared—naive more like.
Chirp.
Suddenly Drifter stilled, his passion evaporating as he cursed under his breath.
Chirp.
Eris, almost too smitten for her own good, blinked bewilderedly.
What was that confounded noise?!
Chirp.
“Drifter, here,” he growled. “Ya better have a prime excuse for disturbin’ me on my off-time, Guardian!” He barked. While the rogue was distracted, Eris’s levelheaded faculties resurfaced, no longer suppressed by the highs of amorous inclinations. The heat of embarrassment swelled within her cheeks, completely overwhelmed by her abnormal venture. Wiggling out of his arms, Eris turned away and snatched her headdress as she made for the exit.
“Yo, Drift! How much extra do we gotta pay ya’ to referee some Gambit early?” a Guardian-patron asked.
“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you’re crampin’ my style,” the rogue complained, barely containing his annoyance.
“Aww, come on! It’s glimmer day!” They whined. “We’ll pay extra.”
Swiftly extracting the Ahamkara bone fragment from the folds of her robes, Eris willed open a portal several feet ahead. As the seams of reality split apart, rippling with monochromatic energy from the nether pocket, she frantically strode toward her self-made exit. Drifter’s irritated voice crescendoed, escalating as he worked excitedly to end the unwanted conversation.
“Look! I gotta—I gotta go!” He yelled distractedly. “Hey, Moondust—wait!”
With deaf ears, Eris made a flustered retreat, willing herself not to look back in this vulnerable moment. She simply needed time alone to think. Even perhaps to construct personal boundaries she would like going forward. Surely, Drifter would understand. He seemed to earlier, given how things transpired amongst themselves. Just as Eris crossed over the threshold, swiftly greeted by unforgiving chill, she was filled with regret and loneliness.
[Moon/Lunar Drop Zone]
[The Next Day]
Eris stood at the lectern chewing her lip, pondering anything but runes and essences. Unable to truly focus, she stared into the basin of the wide bowl beneath the spinning Cryptoglyph with a faraway gaze. The putrescent liquid from within, the shade of seaweed-green, remained unstirred and stagnant. That lackadaisical and hollow state of being seemed to resonate with the Huntress on a personal level and she sighed despondently. Just when she thought the monotony would continue to carry on without a moment’s reprieve, something shifted her current perspective in reality.
Glancing to her left, Eris watched as a potted plant—uncannily pineapple-like in appearance—was set down by a pair of large, gloved hands. Soon thereafter, they withdrew, followed by the quick swish of retreating robes. The small note hanging off the side, scribbled with chicken scratch, simply read: “Pineapple Lilies. See you at dinner.” As soon as the words unraveled their meanings, Eris peered beyond her shoulder. Walking away from her was a nondescript Guardian geared up to the nines, a familiar swagger in their uniquely, stylized gait.
Eris smiled and brought her gift close.