After a few centuries, most Summoned had begun to notice some change to their bodies, an alteration brought on by the excess of Abraxan magic. Diana, who had already been a god with a true form of her own, had been spared much of the changes. Others, like Garrus, had not. But she still recognizes him, still knows him when she finds him watching out over Cadens, despite the feathers shrouding his face. And even if she didn't, that sardonic tone to his voice would be unmistakable anyway.

She sits beside him, legs dangling out over however many stories from the earth below, as unconcerned with the height as he is. "I have good genes." She's learned what those are, by now, and is confident in matching his joking tone with her own. Except she means it more literally, but she isn't about to say as much.

Then, gentler: "But you know I don't." And because he's Garrus, she lets the magic of this world flood her; Diana's skin darkens to the colors of midnight, pinpoints of starlight winking in and out over her skin and hair. Her eyes turn to pools of bright white light, twinkling like the stars in a cloudless night sky. She stays that way, for now, not really feeling as if she's changed, but knowing she looks as if she has. Her gaze sweeps across the city below. "I like having this conversation with you." Because as long as he keeps having it, she knows he's still Garrus.