A/N: This story idea wouldn't leave me alone ever since I heard 'All Titans interested in attending Commander Zavala's crochet class please speak to a frame.' Fair Warning: This story takes place during the Destiny 1 storyline, with some small references to D2, contains romance, humor, mild cursing and jump puzzles. (additional note: I'm a bit of a lore nerd so if I get something wrong or you just want to talk about my lore choices please feel free.) First Stitch: Commander Zavala, hero of Twilight Gap, leader of the vanguard, and bridge between the city and the Guardians that protected it, surveyed his work table with a critical eye. Something was not quite right. He gave the dilemma all due consideration that it deserved. He could do no less. After another few moments of careful study he reached out and moved the final piece into place. All was ready. Zavala turned at a diffident tap on the door. And just in time. “Enter.” One of the tower frames opened the door deferentially. “They have arrived, Commander.” It fluted in its mechanical voice before ducking its way back around the edge of the doorframe, gesturing behind it. “Thank you.” He replied. “Show them in.” Three of Zavala’s Titans entered, one of them nodding at the frame in thanks while the other two ignored it. It was the human, oddly enough. Zavala made a mental note. The three strode confidently into the room, their casual clothing somehow conveying a sense of armored readiness through its cut and color. Of course, any of them could don their battle armor in an instant if necessary, so in a sense they were always armored. Zavala nodded in approval. Their work today required the ease of movement and person to which armor was not always conducive. Even he had shed his pauldrons for a soft gray sweater on this occasion. Three was a good number, better than he had expected if he were to be completely honest, as he tried to be at least with himself. He had hoped for more enthusiasm, but he understood that many had other duties, training or even past times to attend to. The principal pastime amongst them was to bash each other in the crucible. He preferred other diversions. The door was about to swing closed when one more figure darted through, light steps silent on the stone floor. The edge of its long and slightly tattered cloak flicked through the door frame, missing being caught between frame and door by a hairsbreadth. Zavala’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. His silent regard caught the attention of the three Titans, who had already seated themselves, and they swiveled around to see what had arrested his gaze. “What’s she doing here?” One of them demanded, the plates of her EXO face moving together in what was obviously a displeased expression. Zavala held his hand up for silence. The Hunter stood at the back of the room, cloak shading the top of her face so only her mouth and chin were visible. Pale blue lips pursed for a moment but she otherwise didn’t react to the question. Her posture was just a shade short of defiant, more anticipatory than anything else. Like the others she was unarmored, instead dressed in an odd patchwork of leather and cloth, seemingly cobbled together from a dozen different sources. The stitching was expert and obviously had been hand tailored. And though she wore no armor, like any Hunter even in casual clothes the cloak stayed, its various rips and tears carefully mended. More than once Shaxx had referred to a Hunter’s cloak as a security blanket, but his dig had never once gotten the desired reaction, at least not in Zavala’s hearing. Most Hunters either laughed or ignored him. None refuted the statement. “Do you understand what we are doing here today?” He asked her. She nodded. “Are non-Titans not allowed?” She asked, a bit of challenge in her voice. “The announcement was pretty specific.” One EXO Titan chimed in, her tone just short of hostile. The Hunter ignored her, her head never turning from Zavala. “Perhaps I thought no one else would be interested.” He allowed. “Was I incorrect?” Her mouth quirked up at the corner and she spread her hands in an ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ gesture. “I see.” He turned, walking back to the front of the room. “In the future I will tailor my announcements more inclusively.” He turned to face the room from behind his carefully laid out table. “Do take a seat.” Her hesitation may have been surprise, but it only lasted an instant before she settled herself in a chair at the back of the room, folding her cloak carefully around her. “I’ll keep the introductions brief.” He folded his hands behind his back, “You all know who I am, and I know you, if only by sight,” He pointedly did not look at the Hunter. “But as you may not know each other please state your names and affiliations.” The first Titan, an EXO with fierce golden eyes, snapped to his feet and stood at attention. “Delan-5 of fireteam Bulwark, sir.” “Your team has done excellent work. Welcome, Delan.” The female EXO stood next, her posture just as straight as Delan-5’s, though it seemed to Zavala she was straining a bit, perhaps to seem taller than she was. “Haylee-12. Fireteam Bastion.” “I’ve heard of your successes in the European Dead Zone.” Zavala acknowledged. “Well done.” “Thank you sir.” She seated herself, chin held proudly high. The human Titan stood next. His hands went behind his back and he seemed to be bracing himself. “Royce, sir.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fireteam, ‘The Bad Guys Don’t Care What we Call Ourselves so Why Bother.’ Sorry, sir. Not my idea.” Zavala rubbed at the twinge that had just appeared above his right eye. “Of course.” Royce reseated himself quickly, avoiding the other Titans’ amused glances. Zavala turned his attention to the Hunter sitting in the back of the room. She didn’t stand, just reached up and adjusted her hood. “Alia. Fireteam Minotaur.” “You named yourselves after an enemy?” Royce asked, seeming genuinely curious while Haylee-12 made a disgusted noise. Alia seemed to take the genuine question in the nature it was presented. “No, we named ourselves after the protector of the maze from which there is no escape. Old mythology. Our Warlock dug it up somewhere.” She shrugged. “Just happened to also be the name of an enemy.” “Right.” Zavala said. “Welcome, Delan, Haylee, Royce and Alia.” he made eye contact with each of the Titans and attempted to do so as well with the Hunter, a difficult task as he still couldn’t see her eyes. “Let us begin.” Hands still tucked behind his back, Zavala paced behind his table, marshalling his thoughts. “You are here today to train in a skill that requires a great deal of precision and patience. When we are through you will find yourselves completing the most complicated maneuvers without thought, purely on instinct. The limits of how far you can go will be dependent only on your dexterity, diligence and imagination.” He stopped and faced his audience, gauging their reactions. His Titans looked attentive, the Hunter looked out the window. He successfully suppressed a sigh. For this reason he had tailored his announcement to Titans only. Although in retrospect, inviting the Hunters to this gathering would have been a sure way to guarantee that none would show. “Now I would have you choose the tools that will carry you through this exercise. Choose wisely and pay attention to what suits your reach and sits well in your hand.” He stepped back and gestured at the table before him, inviting his students to approach. They rose and made their orderly way to the table, giving its contents all due consideration before making their choices. He noticed the Hunter had inveigled herself between the two EXOs, likely on purpose. She reached out with slim blue hands, picking up various tools and discarding them, before selecting one that seemed to suit her. She flipped it a few times as she would a throwing knife, drawing a glare from Haylee-12, though Delan-5 didn’t seem to notice. She slipped from between them and moved to the other end of the table. He could see her teeth worrying her lip as she regarded the options. Finally one seemed to catch her fancy and she snagged it before retreating to the back of the room. He made mental note of her choices before turning his attention to Royce, who seemed to have trouble deciding between two options. Once everyone had returned to their seats he bent to retrieve his personal kit from beneath the table. Polished, though well worn, his own choice, made so long ago, glinted in the light from the window as he held it comfortably against his palm. “Now that we have all the physical tools I will begin with the foundation from which all shall be built.” The class watched as he deftly crafted the first form and held it up for them to see. “The chain stitch." --- Second Stitch: https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/1371758/226248566/0/0 Master List : https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/1371758/226373948/0/0