Speaker's Sight
From Destinypedia, the Destiny wiki
| Speaker's Sight | |
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Helmet |
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Warlock |
- "To its Speakers, the Traveler gives dreams, and little more."
- — Armor flavor text
Speaker's Sight is an Exotic Warlock armor introduced in The Final Shape.
Perk
- The Lost Voice: Healing grenades spawn a Restorative Turret. Healing allies occasionally spawns an Orb of Power.
Lore
To its Speakers, the Traveler gives dreams, and little more.
—I dream of a star hung low in the sky: brilliant, refractive, astigmatic. In green twilight, it was clear; in golden sunrise, it was aloof. Through day and night, it keeps me company, and from dream to dream, it is there, no matter the sky, no matter indoors or outdoors. In the heart of a deep subterranean compound, the star twinkles in the ventilation ducts. I always know where I am going.
—I dream of a weary wolf with kind eyes, a mother with pups behind her. She knows I am no threat, but I keep respectful distance anyway. Manners are not a suggestion. She does not speak.
—I dream of sunset, over and over.
—I dream of spears. I trace symbology through archives—boar-hunting and defense, creativity and fire, sacrifice and martyrdom. I do not understand the dreams. They stay with me for a long, long time.
—I dream of peace. I dream of waking with a rising sun, calm at dawn—waking to birdsong, to the sound of wings. I dream there is no fear and there are no walls, and the only trouble that meets me is I must shade my eyes when I walk out into the world.
—I dream of dreaming. I wake from one dream into another dream. There was a time when people like me dreamed, and it was a story. Now I dream only omens, cast in the fall of bamboo and the patterns of offal. I dream that I had a dream where I knew, without question, what was being said to me, but in the waking, it is nothing but smoke.
—I dream of patterns in the stream, fallen leaves drawing pictures for the briefest of moments before being washed down the river. Sorrow crushes me, and I do not understand why.
—I dream I am a voice caught in a throat, a heart trapped behind ribs—the thundering life of something that can only exist in its cage. I am Light cradled in glass and wire; I am a shield dreaming of being a sky, in love with the clouds. I look back at myself, and I am so, so small. I dream—
—And I wake, and I remember the dreams I have had before, though I do not understand them. But they array themselves in orderly fashion, in a long queue of patience.
I have time to cast the bones and learn their meaning.
