Skolas is dead. Variks sits carving at his piece of amethyst. His undocked arms are weaker, less precise, but it is a comfort to feel the crystal press hard into his palm. The knife slips. He cuts himself. "Ai," he says, and of course right then the door opens, Variks has no privacy, Variks wants no privacy, Variks lives to serve the Queen. It's Petra Venj. She's masked against the ether air. "The Prince wants to speak," she says, and then, seeing him unmasked and bleeding, she chuckles. Petra depends on Variks for intelligence and Variks, frustrated with her insane risk-taking and bravado, sometimes gives her tips meant to get her killed. Petra has figured this out. Petra and Variks know each other's agendas and each other's strengths and to Variks that's as close as any two people can get. Petra is smart: she sends Guardians now, people who can die as much as they like. "You slipped," she says. Variks holds up the amethyst in his bleeding hand. It's a Reef gem. "I wound myself," he says, "to make this more beautiful." She stares into the gem with a distant Awoken eye. What does she see? Variks knows she has visions and he knows those visions haunt her, drive her. The Awoken are twinned to powers that terrify Variks. He'd dock himself again before he'd let the Queen's witches near him, the witches who raised Petra. The unfairness of it makes him want to roar. Why does everyone else have this patronage? Why do the Hive have gods and the Vex have sprawling time-bent minds and the Cabal have reinforcements? Why do the Awoken whisper to the stars and listen for the whisper back, the voices from the Jovians, the song in the dark? Why do the Guardians get the Great Machine's blessing, was it like that before the Whirlwind, were there Fallen heroes crowned in Ghosts who strode the battlefield fearless and full of Light? Why do they tell stories about reclaiming the lost glory of humanity, and no stories about the lost glory of Variks' people, the House of Judgment that once kept codes of dignity and law? Why can't the Fallen have that strength? But no, that strength is not for them, not for Variks. Just this bleeding, sad pragmatism. Just dreg strength. Hanging on. The alternative is Skolas' strength, fighting together, raging against extinction. Look where that's gotten the species. The House of Devils' Prime is dead. The House of Winter's leadership devastated. The poor Exiles trying to claw out some security against the Hive. In the last few years the Fallen have lost so much—and everything is escalating around them. There are gods and powers converging on this system, old machines waking up, old bones whispering flatteries. They need a new way. "Put your mask on," Petra says. "The Prince gets sullen if he's kept waiting." "Not like us," Variks says, oh so mild. The wound on his hand will heal. His work in the Prison of Elders, setting up trial by combat, building an audience and a relationship with the Reef's scavengers and armories, will bring him a little closer towards rebuilding the House of Judgment. Skolas' fury has guttered out. The Fallen may yet accept peaceful, lawful rule. They may yet survive. They'll hang on. "We're very patient, yes?" Petra looks down on him with pity and contempt and a strange fondness. He puts on his mask. Necro Bump

( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o)

Ok

Gonna die like a bitch

My belt holds my pants up, but the belt loops hold my belt up; so which one’s the real hero?

That?

This was for some dream car thread earlier.

What the -blam!- did you just -blam!-ing say about me, you little DeeJ? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Seventh Column, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on #Destiny, and I have over 300 confirmed mutes. I am trained in argument warfare and I’m the top floodian on Bungie.net. You are nothing to me but just another Newfoman. I will ban you the -blam!- out with precision the likes of Recon, mark my -blam!-ing words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, -blam!-er. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of moderators across the forums and your Private Messages are being traced right now so you better prepare for the shitstorm, fgt. The shitstorm that bans your pathetic little thing you call your account. You’re -blam!-ing banned, kido. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can troll you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my MLG Razer Keyboard. Not only am I extensively trained in Butthurt Feeding, but I have access to the all of the passwords of Bungie.net and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable hard drive off the face of the Universe, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your -blam!-ing tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re -blam!-ing banned, kiddo

[b] [/b]

I like blood, I'll leave it at that

I didn't know what to say

Oh, this.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"My phone has 3% battery"

I'm gonna still hunt you down and watch you while you sleep

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

this

Flame war imminent

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kBjcsVJBzRg

"What the -blam!- did you just -blam!-ing say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the -blam!- out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my -blam!-ing words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, -blam!-er. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re -blam!-ing dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your -blam!-ing tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re -blam!-ing dead, kiddo.

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Bg3z4u1CYAA3QUs.jpg

­

http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=6