Eyes Up, Guardian

Chapter 33

Damian returned to the Tower early that evening. He knew he'd only been gone for a few days, but it felt like he hadn't been there in forever. So much had happened in the past few days. He made his way through the courtyard, stopping to grab a few weapons from his vault before he headed down the set of stairs in front of him. When he stepped into the hall of the guardians, he was surprised to find it empty of everyone but Ikora. She took one look at him and frowned.

"Are you in burnout?" She asked him. Burnout was when a guardian--usually a warlock--used all their light while fighting and were temporarily lightless. Unlike what he and Tessa had been through during the Taken war, it wasn't lethal, as a guardian could only use as much light as they could live without. However, it usually made the guardian quite sick, leaving them in almost a state of withdrawal without their light.

"No." He responded with a shake of his head. His hands--knuckles split and bleeding within the bandages he'd wrapped around them--remained loosely balled at his side.

"Are you punishing yourself?" She questioned further. This took him a bit longer to answer.

"No." He said, regaining his thoughts as his mentor set down the book she'd been reading and watched him with her full attention.

"Let's see them, then." She told him, holding out a hand.

He hesitated for a moment, but closed the distance between them and offered her one of his bandaged hands. She carefully undid the bandages enough to peer at the wounds beneath. Even though it was his choice to keep the wounds, she was careful not to hurt him. He let her inspect his hands, then he showed her a deep gash that had been cut on the underside of his right arm, earned when he blocked a blow aimed for his chest. This one had been healed a bit, but only for necessity. He'd asked Kylie to leave most of it be. Currently, it was a large, messy scab, the skin having healed only partially per Kylie's instructions.

"Who was it?" She asked him finally, after she'd rewrapped the bandages on his hands.

"Aiken." He answered, "The male that delivered Tessa over to Nokris." He told her, "Whatever blessing Nokris gave him is still there, but I held my own. He's being banished for his crimes. It's better than what he deserves."

He heaved a sigh, turning around to sit on the edge of the glass table. "Maybe I am punishing myself." He murmured, "He deserved what I did to him, he tried to kill Tessa and me," he said, "but was violence the right answer? I was so angry, it felt right, it still does, but I can't help but wonder."

"Perhaps you should consider who you're talking to when you ask such questions." Ikora told him with a bit of a smile, to which he looked up, then smiled despite himself. It was somewhat of a tired smile, but still. "Zavala may have a better answer to that question." She told him. Ikora had an extensive crucible background. For a time, it had even been her home, and as far as Damian knew, she was the most powerful guardian to ever enter the competition, and the only guardian to ever defeat Lord Shaxx. Zavala, however, didn't believe in the crucible. He thought it consumed resources and wasted equipment. His focus was on the real battle, and as much as Damian admired him for it, the crucible was where he had grown strong, or at least strong enough to fight the real battles outside the city.

Damian shook his head. "I don't think so." He said, "I don't think Zavala would understand the passion, the deep emotions that the violence comes from." He shrugged, the statement feeling ridiculous in itself. He hadn't been passionate, not in the slightest, he'd been angry, enraged even, but that wasn't passion. "He wouldn't understand my way of thinking as well as you would."