Special Perks
Ascendant Protector
Stats
| Defense | 0 |
Curated Roll
Lore
Wyrmguard Mark
Creation is built on secrets.
The Bazaar, atop a balcony:
Tyche-4 sips hot broth from a takeout container.
"I wish I could win just one match," Baro says to her, sagging morosely against the railing.
Tyche-4 elbows him gently. "Killing other Guardians all day isn't the only way to help the City, you know."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's been hiding from Shaxx for weeks—hey, don't laugh!"
The Annex, beneath the stairs:
"The look on their faces," Nakato says, laughing breathlessly. "Can't believe he staked that Sparrow of his. Guardians really do think they can't lose."
Her Eliksni companion makes a chuffing noise and rattles off an incomprehensible stream of words. Nakato catches "skilled" and "cheat" though, and smiles. Even the most backhanded of compliments are better than none.
"You know, you're a quick hand at cards. And everyone's throwing around Glimmer like there's no tomorrow. If you wanted to stick together a while…"
The Eliksni blinks at her, mulling it over, then nods.
Nakato grins and claps her new friend on the back. "That's the spirit. Wish I'd met you years ago."
The Hangar, within a maintenance closet:
Velibor sits hidden in the dark, wracked by helpless convulsions of grief.
"I wish they were still here." He gulps for air. "I can't do this without them."
Augur settles at her Guardian's shoulder. "You need to talk to someone, Vel—"
"I should have been there. I could have saved them. I wish I'd never let them go."
Outside the Tower offices:
A stray cat regards Dimas disdainfully from a windowsill, then resumes washing its paws.
"I wish I had a cat," Dimas exclaims. "Here, cat!"
Dimas inches closer to the indifferent feline. "It must be a good life, sitting around the Tower without worrying about Light and Dark, or much of anything at all."
The cat does not look up.
Dimas thinks for a moment.
"I wish I was a cat," he says.
A Tower sub-basement, between the stacks:
"I think that's it," Serge says. "Once we've sealed up this last one, we're done for the day."
"Not bad for an honest day's work," the frame says. It speaks in the same amiable tone of voice it applies to every statement, but Serge still finds himself smiling.
"You said it, buddy."
Serge looks on as the frame effortlessly fits the final plate of ion shielding into place. It hums as it works—a little tune Serge taught it on his second day on the job.
"The day goes by a lot faster with someone to talk to," Serge says. "Just wish you could understand me. Really understand, I mean."
"Yes," says the frame. "I wish that also."
