Legend / Triumphs

During the day, the Hall of Heroes is busy with activity. Neomuni in mobile avatars gather in knots, their conversations a low rumble under Quinn Laghari's personally curated ambient soundtrack.

Even after visiting hours, the Hall isn't entirely quiet. Poukas rustle through foliage as water rushes into the pools. And Osiris paces back and forth across the carpet, avoiding Sagira's memorial.

New footsteps sound in the distance. Osiris turns away from the door and toward a pool.

The steps are quick, impatient: Nimbus. They slow as they climb the stairs to the Hall.

"Osiris?"

There is a wad of leaves clogging a drain. Osiris contemplates it. He has never asked who cleans out the pouka ponds.

"It's late. I thought you were done for the day!" Nimbus's voice is a cheerful buzz echoing against the high ceiling.

"I was. I am." His report has been sent to the Vanguard. It will be some time before Ikora responds. There is no reason for Osiris to pass on this chance for some rest.

"Still hanging around here, though? Everything good, old bird?"

Nimbus looms over Osiris. Rather than giving himself a crick in the neck looking up, Osiris starts pacing once again.

"I am thinking about the Conductor. About what we learned."

Nimbus ambles along, taking one step to every three of Osiris's. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

This is something he doesn't want to unfold before anyone other than Sagira, his second mind, his other heart. He wronged her, just as he wronged Saint.

"Aw, you sure? Everyone says it's easier to carry a burden when someone's there to carry it with you. And I'm pretty strong."

Nimbus flexes an arm demonstratively. They show every indication of being ready to wait all night for Osiris. Osiris looks up, exasperated, and they give him a huge wink.

The two of them have spent a great deal of time together, researching first Strand and then Maya Sundaresh's history. Nimbus deserves his honesty.

Osiris crosses his arms and scowls up at the light fixtures.

"I… After I lost Saint, I pulled another version of him back into the world. I was selfish. I did to Saint what Maya Sundaresh did to Chioma Esi."

There. It's said.

"Whoa," says Nimbus. "That's, uh, heavy stuff to be dealing with, my man."

Waiting for their judgment is agonizing. Saint is home in the Tower, feeding his birds, readying himself to yell into a microphone at fighting Guardians, likely reshelving all of Osiris's books in the wrong place again. And Osiris is far from home, in the wrong, and hoping for understanding.

"All right, so." Nimbus draws their words out, processing. "The Conductor's been yanking versions of Chioma out of the Net by the handful. And killing them."

"Yes."

"And when Saint was gone, you went after him into the Infinite Forest. And this could have broken really bad, not just for you, but for like, the whole world."

"Yes."

"So, this is just me," Nimbus says eventually. "But… Maya found her partner, right? Tons of her. And she like, mulched them. And you went looking for Saint. And you brought him home."

Nimbus's voice slows as they think through their point.

"What would you have done if you found Saint and he said, you know, 'Thanks but no thanks? I'm good here'?"

In the moment? Osiris knew he would have stood in front of Saint and argued till Osiris starved to death and Sagira had to resurrect him, then done it again. Till he truly understood Saint's reasoning.

Osiris's steps take him to Sagira's memorial. Her cold shell gazes up sightlessly. She'd give him such a lecture if she heard him now.

"Left him there, I suppose." If it was what he truly wanted. Saint-14 was legendarily hard-headed: he knew his own mind.

Nimbus comes up to Osiris, looming again.

"Seems to me you brought Saint back 'cause you missed him. Not because you missed… yourself. What Saint could say about you. Seems pretty different."

They stand together, Nimbus's gaze tracking up to Rohan's memorial. Osiris should call Saint. He should return to the Tower. He's spent quite enough time so far from home.

"There aren't a lot of chances for a Cloud Strider to find love," Nimbus says wistfully. Their eyes, reflected blurrily in the memorial, fill with tears. "Your story is so romantic. How did you and Saint make it work for so long? How can I find something like that?"

And for all that being asked earnestly for advice based on his relationship is a horror the Vex themselves could never have predicted, Osiris can't reject the plea in those shining eyes.

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