What Now?

by Q-22

Eternuement

It'd be a few days, the Guardian learned, until the equivalent of a raid team came to solve his little exploding problem. Something particularly nasty had slinked out of the forest next to the town they all conveniently lived in and was causing problems.

"They'll be fine," said the guard-slash-messenger who had come to tell him exactly what you just read above. "Things like that happen all the time, they're more than capable of handling...stuff." The guard was wearing an interesting expression after saying it all, thought the Guardian to himself. He sniffled, then, his attention being returned to his congested sinuses. Along with his metaphysical issues, he was experiencing the wonderful ride of what was commonly known as the "common cold." Why it wouldn't go away when he was resurrected was the most baffling thing about it, really. He hadn't ever gotten sick before, likely due to lack of exposure to...anything, so, being sick for the first time was a lot less exciting than he had imagined it. It was like being drunk and keenly aware of everything at the same time, sort of. He had never gotten drunk before, either. Recent events were taken into consideration, and he decided changing that was a very, very high priority.

Ghost pulled him out of his thoughts with a chirp.

"Hey, that one kind of looked like how other Guardians look when they talk about all the stuff you do. Sort of," he said, bobbing in the doorway that the guard had been in not long ago, watching him trot off to somewhere else. The Guardian peeked around the door, watching the guard turn a corner and disappear.

"Part of why I don't like talking to them." The Guardian sighed and shook the soot out of his coat, rather upset that his cloak hadn't come back the second to last time he was resurrected. Without anything covering him, he felt exposed, especially since anyone who both knew who he was and looked at him looked right at his ass. He was told it was because of the marks sizzling on his flanks. It didn't help too much. It was an odd thing, watching a mixed amalgamation of the Guardian class symbols shift and crackle. It only burned a little, but only when he looked at it for too long, watching the lines cross and the colors change. Any pony who looked at it was mesmerized by it, asking what it meant and a thousand following questions. The Guardian typically found himself unable to give much of an answer, his lips tightening and drawing back, his speech function essentially freezing up. Ghost did his best to fill in for him, but it was still uncomfortable to listen to, all the back and forth. It was odd, how it was easy to talk to unquestioning guards and the Princesses, but the moment any of the other staff took interest, hardly a peep came out of him. He didn't like it, he wasn't used to it, and he didn't want to be in the same room after it would happen.

He spent half a day pretending to nap in the little blast room that had been set up to contain his explosions. It was boring, but no one bothered him.

The other half of the day, after he blew up again, he was sitting in the gardens, in a secluded little patch of hedges and a few statues. The statues were lined up along a cobblestone path in the center of the courtyard, and the hedges lined the area like walls. The path led to a little balcony by the edge, overlooking the distance. There wasn't much to see out there. Only the occasional gardener would come by, mostly leaving him alone. Whenever they would say anything, it was usually just a passing greeting. A small "hello", or a little nod. Little acknowledgements, no staring, no prolonged conversations where they would look right into his eyes and expect him to talk back, no looking confused when Ghost would start talking, and no excessive "woah"ing at his height. Or his horn. His very long, slender, pointy horn. Yes, he knew it was big, he didn't need it pointed out. Just over half a week in a new body and he was already self conscious about it. How fun.

The sun was, oh, maybe seventy-five percent through the sky by then, going down but not sinking or making the sky look all orange and colorful. He was lying down, a small cube of this black wax-like stuff between his hooves. He had kept it since the first few deep delves of the Hive King Orxy's Dreadnought. The massive ship was still parked in Jupiter's rings, Oryx was dead, most of his cronies were being slaughtered in combat rituals Guardians were actively encouraged to participate in, so, "why not explore?" asked a bunch of suicidal Hunters, curious Warlocks, and amazingly thick-skulled Titans. The results varied, and the Guardian only kept around a few little treasures that weren't lethal. Among them was the cube of pseudo wax, which he had kept in his little box. It would wobble back into the shape of a melting cube after some meddling and squishing, eating up a little bit of his Light in order to do so. Ghost had told him it was doing that, but it wasn't a problem, since he was generating enough to briefly put a dent in a star. Well, he would be, if his body didn't keep exploding. Getting a body that wouldn't explode was an extra point of concern, when he thought about it. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted that much power. Besides, what would he use it for here? Back home, he had a job, sort of, and killing eldritch abominations on limited power was, well, it worked for him. Having slightly less limited power and not having to use it against eldritch abominations was a daunting prospect.

He sniffled again, setting his cube aside and digging through his box with a hoof. He didn't really know if he had kept any tissues in it, but it wouldn't have hurt to check. Any fabric would have worked, really, but the most he found was a purple strand of cloth, torn around the edges. He put it back, took out a cookie to nibble on, and closed the box. The day he blew his nose in one of Saint's accolades- well, it would never happen. He munched on the cookie, tasting vanilla and sugar, chewing for a moment then swallowing. He grimaced. The snot was starting to run down his throat, somehow, even though his nose was all the way at the front of his face and it didn't make sense how it could get from there to his gullet.

"Blegh," he vocalized. Snot was gross.

"Not to your liking?" asked an intriguingly charismatic voice to his left. He wanted to look, but decided against it. Talking was easier without eye contact.

"No, no, the cookie's fine. Just sick for the first time."

"Well, I think we've all been there before. This has been following me around for the past few days, but I think you'll have more use of it than I will, so I'll just, oh, leave this here, right in your peripheral.~"

The edge of a light blue box slide into the Guardian's view.

"Uh...Thanks, actually. Been needing something like this for a while."

"Not a problem, friend, happy to help a kindred being. All that chaotic energy bubbling about inside you simply must be driving you crazy! Can't imagine how it must be, living with it all so repressed.~"

The Guardian's interest was poked, stabbed rather, and he turned to look at the owner of the voice, who wasn't there anymore. The box of tissues was, though. He prodded it with a hoof, finding it was very much real. A moment or two of paranoid looking around confirmed that whomever he had just been conversing with had left without a trace, besides the tissues.

A pregnant pause passed, wind whisking the bushes idly, a few leaves blowing about, scraping on the cobblestone behind him.

"Honestly, with how this has been so far, if this doesn't end horribly, I'm going to be disappointed."

He snagged a tissue in his hooves, somehow managed to blow into the tissue without much issue, aaaaaand nothing happened. Well, talk about a let-down. It was nice to have a slightly clearer shnozz, though. He sniffled again, enjoying the brief feeling of respite, and immediately felt the repercussions of inhaling with a clear nose in a garden-y-ish area. Pollen.

One sneeze later and he was whisked away off to what would be the southwestern region of Whitetail Woods, if it were to be pointed out on any modern Equestrian map. He didn't know that, of course.

Author's Note:

Achoo.

Comments

[Q-22]

10030464
UwU

[dragstormer]

9772832
He’ll yeah

[dragstormer]

Also just found this story really happy to see another destiny cross on here

[MkktBkkt]

Moar

[shance]

Still hope he becomes an Alicorn, would make sense and be hilarious. I want to see him escaping adulation and His Highnesess.

[CGen]

His ass is the loading screen it makes perfect sense. Goddamnit Bungo servers

Specifically the login screen. He's gotta now create his own pony body to live in, I expect...hope Equestria's character created has more varied options.

And beards.

It's not in his personality, but I can see any Guardian having use making a sort of Crucible equivalent for ponies, seeing their universal skills in asymmetric warfare. What is a Guardian when not a paracausal God killing machine? What can the Light do here that magic can't?

On that note I hope there's some interesting lore swapping planned for whenever the pony magical raid nerd team shows up. Ponies like Sunburst and Twilight Sparkle are likely, but not necessary.

[Q-22]

10077805
Oh god, you made me laugh so loud, holy crap, thank you for making that connection
like
That wasn't at all what I was thinking but that's such a good idea, just, nngh, y e s, just, pure dopamine flooded my brain there for a second. Er, two seconds. Maybe three.

I don't have tooooo much to say in regards to the second half of your comment, but you have just inspired an entirely unrelated detail that I'm now going to have in at some point relatively soon (chapter-wise, not time-wise, since I make things slowly).

It's been mostly me and my thoughts creating different narratives and plot lines where this story could possibly go, so I've been somewhat lacking in the feedback department on a daily basis, so, like, comments like this help me sort through my ideas, and it's appreciated greatly, so, you know, thanks.

[CGen]

10078586
He's been there a while hasn't he? Why not have him try getting some new clothes? Trying to regain some sense of normalcy in the new body.

After all, what makes it really special is the Light, that makes bullets decide they didn't actually hit you after the fact. Well that's its use as armor but apparently in lore Guardian outfits have special functions (per D1 lore). Titans have field drivers that give them super strength, Hunter field gear is extremely efficient survival equipment, and Warlock helmets make direct connections with their synapses for...meditation assistance I guess. Or easier access to the Void/Solar/Arc around them.

None of that fancy tech would be in Equestria, of course, but Guardians make do with what they have. Cloth is surely common enough to make a cape/cloak and trenchcoat out of (I prefer dusters). Maybe a coat with hood? The guards surely have some spare armor if he asked nicely, bracers and horseshoes at the very least, if not a breastplate. Maybe some kind of ring for his beautiful beautiful horn?

Maybe Ghost can fashion some makeshift fieldweave. Sapphire wire out of literal sapphires, hadronic essence from bottling exotic magic energy, plasteel plating out of cardboard and dreams specially treated dragon scales. As long as it doesn't look as bad as D2 stuff, I'm sure you don't get any complaints. The fashiongame is an endgame too.

You could excuse all this as Ghost suggesting he use his new Light in a more controlled manner than the usual destruction. Guardians were raised to use the Light as a weapon, but they've made some cool toys too.

[-Brutus]

I love the art cover for this fanfic, gives him a mysterious look. I wonder what kind of body will he end up once he gets his power under control.

[Mask]

Ah, seemingly a Destiny fic where the protagonist isn't for some ungodly reason stuck to just one class, or has random cooldowns. The game is constricted, but I never once remember reading anywhere in the bits of lore that Guardians were forced to conform to a class. Only that people were trained in established schools for ease of cohesion when forming fireteams. When not confound to a game, there should be nothing holding someone back. Least of all the Guardian who is considered both a friend and a Fireteam member to the Vanguard leaders.

Heck, there's a Ghost lore collectible in D2 that tells a story about how a Guardian made the Thundercrash super... by falling off a cliff headfirst over and over while his Ghost revived him and reflected on life.

On another note though, I'm curious as to what the MC is gonna use his powers for. Seeing as Light was originally weaponized to fight back against the "Darkness". Yet the Traveler uses that same energy on admittedly a much larger scale to terraform entire planets. Heck, the Ghost's inherent ability to resurrect isn't exclusive to them, considering Sunsingers from Destiny 1 could revive themselves.

Anyways, interesting fic. I'm unsure when this takes place in the MLP seasons, so what seemed like Discord's little appearance there at the end could be worrying or amusing later on. Either will prove entertaining, I assume.