False Idols

There is a single jade coin marked with the silhouette of a Pyramid ship.

"Keep playing the game." The Emissary of the Nine's voice haunts Drifter. A voice that once belonged to Orin. Standing on the bridge of the H.E.L.M., he can't hear the ship's running noise or the chatter of the navigation frames. All he can hear is—

"The furrow in your brow reveals you."

Eris comes to stand beside Drifter at the windows. Their muted reflections pale in comparison to the magenta light spilling from the triangular wound in the Traveler's side.

"Yeah, I bet it does," Drifter grouses, rolling the coin over the back of his fingers. "S'why you hide yours, eh?" He hides his worry behind a toothy smile.

"No."

Eris reaches out and takes Drifter's hand; calloused fingers brush across his knuckles. He tenses for a moment, then relaxes at the touch. She deftly plucks the coin away from his palm, regarding it with a mild curiosity. He feels lighter without it.

"Cryptic non-answers are not a useful totem for you to carry into the future," she asserts, pocketing the coin.

Drifter cocks an eyebrow. "You got somethin' better?"

Eris watches his expression in the reflection. "Indeed. A ray of moonlight, and nothing more."