[spoiler]This is a small excerpt to think of ways to get past my writers block. My great friend (Paradox1055) and I have steadily been making exotics over the course of the past few months and I feel some of them need a backstory of some sort. If this is taken well then you will be seeing this more often hopefully! https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/143453151/0/0 here's the post regarding the exotics feel free to add on![/spoiler] The surprisingly clear night of London showed the rays of the full moon as it cascaded off the walls and streets of the now sleeping monarch of a capital. Few sturred as the wind gently blew the paper thin clouds along their path. Down the winding and dirty streets, there lies an abandoned church and a graveyard. An old and run down graveyard, barely fit for any respect of the dead as the numerous stone markers cluttered the ground. Here lies the few who were poor enough to even recieve a proper burial, long forgotten and left alone except for one. The night air is nearly silent for a city, except for the angelic voice of a woman. She sits infront of a particular headstone as she sings a lullaby, a lullaby she will never forget and will always sing to the ones who taught it to her. Her pale blonde hair shifts silently in the wind as she sings. Her dress is slightly tattered but of decent make and worn out red fabric. Her eyes are closed as she sits perfectly still, calming the spirits of the lost with her voice. This is her routine, a routine spanning several months. After another few bars of the lullaby, she stops and opens her eyelids to reveal dazzling grey eyes. She smiles at the headstone and touches it gently. "Sleep well, Mother, Father, and little Angina." The lettering on the headstone is now slightly worn and cracked but the names of three people are listed and their dates of birth and death. The woman now gets up and brushes off her dress. "I will see you tomorrow." She whispers silently. She pulls out of the folds of her dress a blood red rose from a garden, still ripe with life and now drops of fresh blood. She sets the rose on top of the headstone. "I promise." She then turns and proceeds to leave the graveyard to go home. The rose sits perfectly still on the grave. It's petals shift slightly in the wind and it's once vibrant color begin to fade slightly. The remaining blood from the thorns gently moves along the stone, creating a small pool around the stem of the flower. It's dying wish as it wilts away... is to be picked again and held in a bloody clutch. So that it is wanted for a purpose yet again. https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/164987553/0/0 link to part 2 https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/162777552/0/0/1 link to the Exotic: Rose From Another Grave [spoiler]Thank you all for tuning in! Since I really want this to be a Community thing (and to give me more to write about) I am thinking about getting exotics from you guys and creating back stories for them. In order to do this all you have to do is create an exotic on my friends Exotic page (listed above) and in a spoiler have a hashtag, (#writemyexotichistory), I look their frequently so have a go! And I will also be getting your opinion on what to do for the next installment to Exotic History later on. Until then, stay within the Light Guardians.[/spoiler]