Breakdown
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Breakdown is one series of lore entries that comes in the Lightfall's Collector Edition, alongside Beloved and Bitter. It contains a series of messages and logs between Ikora Rey and Osiris, evaluating his current status and what he had experienced in as time between the events of Beyond Light and The Witch Queen.
Message between Ikora and Ophiuchus
It's not that I disagree with the judgment call," Ophiuchus said and revolved gently on the spot. "But you can't go easy on him."
"It's an evaluation, not an interrogation." Ikora did not give in to the impulse to fold her arms. This time.
"You know what I mean."
Ikora sighed very softly. He was right, all things considered. "I don't intend to. And I'm... well aware that there's an equal helping of suspicion on me for not seeing through Savathin's deception."
"We didn't see through it." Ophiuchus's correction was as firm as his earlier challenge. "It was a complex series of failures that can't be laid on any one person."
Ikora shook her head. "She never could have impersonated him so successfully if Sagira was alive."
Loss echoed loudly.
"In that respect, I suppose Xivu Arath did her sister a favor," Ikora finished.
"Yes. It's sad..."
Something unsaid lingered there. "But?" Ikora prompted.
"But," Ophiuchus continued, "You can't tell me you didn't think it too. Just for a moment. About bringing her shell back to the Relic on Mars..."
"There was a moment–just a breath–where I... hoped," Ikora agreed. "I shouldn't have."
"Hope doesn't often obey wisdom. "Ophiuchus fixed her with his single gimlet eye.
Though he wasn't wrong, Ikora wasn't wholly interested in being generous to her failings. "All of the hope in the world doesn't change facts. A relic of Darkness is unlikely to be capable of restoring a Ghost crafted largely of Light. No matter how.. nice it would be, if Sagira could simply pick right back up with Osiris, wash away these last months, just like that."
"Our problems never solve so easily," Ophiuchus said, not unkindly. He drifted close enough to bump against Ikora's shoulder, just above the shimmer of her Bond.
Ikora steadied herself. "Untrue. Eva Levante provides us perfectly fixable problems."
A little whirr of amusement. "Shall we see if the Witness is afraid of the Dawning?"
The thought compelled an exchange of almost-stifled laughter. "Doubtful," Ikora mused. But the mental image was a good busy. "In any case, I'll speak with Osiris alone, although the records will be available to you. I'm sure you may spot something I've missed."
Ophiuchus hummed a little more. "You know he may never be ready for the field again."
"He certainly wouldn't like to be told that." Ikora held up her hand before her Ghost could answer. "But one step at a time: field readiness assessment before we make any determination, the same way we would for any Hidden agent who's come out of a dark place." Her mouth twisted, "Wouldn't it be nice if checking in on Osiris could be as simple as asking, Are you all right?"
"Hah," Ophiuchus said, pessimism in a single syllable. "Never happen."
SUBJ: First debriefing with Osiris
Contextual notes:
Osiris looks smaller than my memory of him. It's as if the version of him that Savathûn played was based on our expectations, the larger-than-life man and the long shadow he's always cast. Or perhaps she played an Osiris newly separated from Sagira, one who did not yet feel the weight of the loss, had not been given the chance to.
Now Osiris seems plainly Human, in a way he never has, even at his most despairing, and I barely think I recognize him. But today, a familiar glimmer of his former self roused over the strong scent of the tea I made, and gave me a sort of patient-impatient look over the rim of the cup, as if to say he knows what I'm about and is going to do me the courtesy of not mentioning it.
That's just as well. Osiris never has been one to sit down and openly talk about his feelings, and I doubt very much if his time in Savathun's possession will have changed that. Still, as I said to Ophiuchus, a shared pretext can go a very long way between those long familiar with each other.
Transcript of conversation:
O: If you're going to try to spare my feelings, too, Ikora-
I: It had crossed my mind to be polite to someone who's been held captive by our enemy for a year, yes.
O:... That was unworthy of me.
I: You're going to have to work harder than that to offend me, Osiris.
O: [barely audible laugh] We shall see how that goes. I'm assuming you want to talk about... the intelligence I had gained.
I: Yes. You haven't said much about what it is, only that you remember a little—I want to start from the last place we saw you before you were kidnapped and establish the full chain of events. There was some fuzziness about when you were last... you.
O: Hmph.
O: [pause; deep breath] It was on Luna. The same place I lost...
I: Sagira.
O:...But that was a place of Xivu Arath's power. It is... muddled, after I left that place. I do not think I made it so very far away from the Hellmouth, in truth. I was not thinking straight, if I was thinking at all.
I: Do you remember meeting... perhaps not Savathûn. But no agent of hers? Nothing beyond the Hellmouth that might in retrospect be attributed to her?
O: Nothing. At least, I don't... [frustrated sigh] No. Nothing that I can recall.
I: If nothing else, knowing that you don't know is something.
O: Laughably little. [A frown at the empty cup. He took the teapot, refilled both cups. Slowly.]
O: I wanted to blame you. Surely, I thought, you should have seen. Surely...
I: I certainly blamed myself. If anyone could have identified that you were not yourself-
O: My best student should have?
I:... Yes.
O: Hmph. So we have all paid for that hubris.
I: And Savathûn's gains... well, you are aware of the costs created by insufficient discernment of truth.
O: Yes. So I am.
[Long period of silence. Not a technical transcription fault.]
O: Perhaps such blame is misplaced. After all, if she were discovered, what would Savathûn have done in response?
I: She might simply have moved up her plans to offer a bargain. Perhaps she would have known less of Vanguard operations. Perhaps you would never have been returned to us at all. Perhaps our Guardians might have stormed her throne world regardless. After all, they are very motivated when new weapons and old friends are involved. The variables involved would give even a prediction engine difficulty.
O: Hmmm. Then perhaps you should not have made the bargain in the first place, Ikora.
I: Osiris...
O: Don't mistake my words for ill-guided martyrdom. That I am alive, and here now, is a gift I don't intend to waste.
I: Then don't.
O: But I am not wholly oblivious to the state of things in the City. People question me. Whatever cachet I maintained after my exile, whatever Savathún gained in my stead, it is all useless now.
O: [sips tea] People should question their leaders. Including the Vanguard. But where leadership is not only challenged but also untrusted, then there is much room for expanding chaos. Corruption, even.
I: I know. Believe me, I know.
[Silence, ibid.]
O: Do you trust me, Ikora?
I: I'd like to say that I do. Perhaps it's better to say that I trust you, Osiris. But I still wonder if I trust my own perceptions.
O: Good.
"Well, he's Osiris," Ophiuchus concluded. The pieces of his shell flexed one final time before settling into place, compact as ever. "I don't know what else we expected."
Ikora compressed a smile and wrapped her hand around the small recorder. "You joke, but..."
Ophiuchus played a thin touch of Light across her curled fingers. "You think he sounds too much like himself."
"Perhaps I'm being overly cautious." She opened her grasp, revealing an empty palm first, then producing the recorder again to pass over to Ophiuchus. A pointless trick, but worth a moment of a smile. "Perhaps I think too much of what will be perceived in a failure to be overly cautious."
Ophiuchus whirred quietly, thoughtfully. "An ounce of prevention, and all that."
Ikora breathed out a quiet sigh, as to expel her worries with it. "Optics aside, I do worry about Osiris. Despite his many strengths, he is only Human. Even a stone may be worn down in time; and people are not so resilient as stones.
Ophiuchus, for once, did not argue with her logic.
SUBJ: Second debriefing with Osiris
Contextual notes:
Osiris and I spoke again perhaps a week after the first conversation, in the same secure location—my office. It isn't the best solution—he is still not at his full strength—but the security concerns triumphed, and he agreed with that.
The tea was different: I tried a blend with chamomile, reasoning that there wasn't a single person in the Tower who couldn't use an extra bit of calm.
He took a mouthful of the chamomile tea and grimaced at me, though I could not say if it was in judgment of the flavor or the intended effects. Regardless, I was not offended.
I had something extra for Osiris this time: Sagira's shell. It had been held in secure Hidden storage due to the value of the attached memories, but in the course of LIN-357's assessment of the Altars of Reflection, I was assured his thoroughness had extracted anything we could possibly gain from it. So, while the other artifacts have remained locked away in a secure vault, this one I brought to return to Osiris.
I offered him Sagira's shell without any other indication of what I meant to accomplish. Osiris cradled her between his hands with utmost tenderness, and his face...
I wonder how I could have mistaken Savathûn for him. I wonder how I could have suspected the man before me. It seems clear now in retrospect, of course, with the one to hold up beside the other. Savathûn had never spoken very much of Sagira's loss, and I had taken it for grief compressed—coping tied firmly down, not to be addressed. I had thought it was not my business to tell him how to grieve, not when Xivu Arath and then the Cabal Empire were knocking at our door with wrath and battering rams.
Oh, but this–-this is a grief too big for even a man of his caliber to chain down.
Other notes of relevance: Transcript abbreviated slightly. We spoke delicately of tactical matters for a few minutes, but did not approach the emotional issues after a certain point. Osiris's mind is as sharp as ever, and when we are not speaking close to the heart, he is analytical, if leaning to the pessimistic.
Transcript of conversation:
O: I assume you must have come to some conclusion, then.
I: What makes you say that?
O: You would not have returned her to me if you doubted your course.
I:...No, I wouldn't have.
O: Mm. I might have hoped your caution would outlast your emotion.
I: The judgment call is still mine. In truth, it is highly improbable that Savathûn would repeat the same trick twice; and besides that, she is dead.
O: Is she, truly? I was told... she had a Ghost.
I: Immaru. Yes. He yet survives. But we have sequestered Savathûn's body securely, and my Hidden scraped the area for errant genetic material.
O: That's no guarantee.
I: This tactic worked in the Dark Age. It seems to hold—we have seen no evidence of a resurgence.
O: Hmph. I wouldn't be so sure. She's managed greater deceptions.
I: The Ghosts also don't think it possible, with the precautions we've taken. A disintegration might be catastrophic to that cause, but keeping the body intact and inaccessible seems to work.
O: The Dark Age was a long time ago, now. Who knows what innovations the Hive have brought to the Ghosts.
I: They are still Ghosts.
O: Are they?
I: While we may distinguish between Lightbearers and Guardians, there is no equivalent for Ghosts. And a difference in nomenclature would hardly make much change to their capabilities.
O: We must be prepared for a ploy we cannot see. Ikora. Where does this confidence come from, when the Queen of Lies is the opponent?
I: We do have an... informant when it comes to the Hive. A conscientious objector. While for obvious reasons I can't say more, we are not so directly inhibited when it comes to matters of the Lucent Hive's capabilities.
O: Tell me when you are able.
Ophiuchus was silent for some time after he had finished scanning the second report. Ikora didn't press, choosing instead to stare down at Osiris's empty cup and the cushion where he'd sat.
"It strikes me as ironic," Ophiuchus said finally, "that the problem caused by Sagira's absence is one she would have been perfectly suited to solve."
Ikora's mouth curved, a complication of emotion in the bare shape of amusement. "Paradoxical irony, yes."
She fiddled with the audio recorder, marking it as sealed, no further changes. "I still wonder at his reaction to Immaru and our method of preventing Savathûn's resurrection."
Ophiuchus drifted over the low table and around the empty tea-things; his shell plates moved in a ripple of discrete sections, suggesting a shrug. "It sounded like fear to me. Quiet fear, perhaps, but fear all the same."
"...I have rarely known Osiris to be truly afraid of anything," Ikora admitted. Once more, she felt as though she stood on unstable ground.
"And now, after over a year in Savathûn's possession?" Ophiuchus pressed.
Ikora found she did not have the stomach to finish the thought, and so she let it pass by, into that twilight where things fade that were known but never spoken.
