T H I S

T h i s

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Destiny (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny) Characters: Saint-14 (Destiny), Osiris (Destiny) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss, Self-Destructive Tendencies, Caretaking, Trauma, Comfort, Trauma Recovery, Loss, slow-developing relationship, not in the fic but like in universe, Sometimes New Trauma Reignites Old Trauma!! Summary:

Sometimes you need to be with the only person you’d feel safe to break down around, even if you never have. In the immediate wake of Sagira’s death, Osiris comes to find Saint in the City. POV Saint-14.

wrote this because i made a fic-writing pact with @hencegoodfortune

i have never destined a knee in my life but i am care about sad bird boys

read here or on AO3

Saint had never thought the sight of Osiris would strike dread into his heart. But there was something completely wrong with the sharp-soft-fluid outline of his gleaming helm, his cowl’s feathery tresses and the flowing robes. His posture remained as impeccable as always as he strode through the echoing Tower hangar. Yet something troubled the lines of him. It was as if each exposed surface were on the verge of collapsing inward on a vacuum, and the only thing preventing it was the sheer force of his considerable will. Saint had never seen him like this. A cold feeling ran through his body as if injected directly into the ducts of his circulatory ichor.

“Osiris,” he whispered, even though they were not yet within earshot. Saint trotted out on restless feet from the shadow of the Gray Pigeon to meet him. They drew together at the end of the long sun-emblazoned rug that sprawled before his ship. Saint could not help but begin to reach for Osiris, but he stopped when he saw the man’s unresponsive stiffness.

“Hello, Saint,” he said shortly. He crossed his arms. Only a stripe of his upper face showed between his helm and his mask. The lines around his eyes had gone flat and the ones between his brows had deepened.

“What is wrong?”

“Take your pick. This time? The Hive.”

“No. What is wrong?”

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